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THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 


Professor  Ma  lb  one  W,  Graham 


SERMONS 


SERMONS 

RICHARD  CORDLEY,  D.D. 

FOR  THIRTY-EIGHT  YEARS  PASTOR  OF 
PLYMOUTH  CHURCH,  LAWRENCE.  KANSAS 


Published  by  the  Church,  1912 


THE     PILGRIM     PRESS 

BOSTON  NEW  TORK  CmCAQO 


Copyright,  191 2, 
By  Luther  H.  Gary 


THE     RUMFORD     PRESS 
CONCORD  •  N  •  H  •   USA- 


V^5 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction:  Richard  Cordley,  An  Appreciation  .      .      vii 

I.     "  When  Jesus  Was  Born  in  Bethlehem."     Matt. 

2:1 I 

II.     "Come  Unto  Me."    Matt.  11  :28 13 

Lawrence,   1899, 

III.  "  Which  of  You  by  Taking  Thought  Can  Add 

One  Cubit  to  his  Stature  ?  "    Matt.  6:27      27 
Lawrence,   1 893. 

IV.  "It  Doth  Not  Yet  Appear  What  We  Shall  Be." 

I  John  3:2 41 

Lawrence,  1867. 
Emporia,    1 880. 

V.     "The  Mutual  F.aith  of  You  and  Me."     Rom. 

I  :  12 56 

Lawrence,   1902. 

VI.     "He    Steadfastly    Set    His    Face    to    Go    to 

Jerusalem."    Luke  9  151 71 

Lawrence,  1904. 

VII.     "Hold  Fast  the  Profession  of  Your  Faith." 

Hebrews  10  :  23 83 

VIII.     "The  Days  of  Our  Ye.uis."     Ps.  90  :  to  ...       97 

Lawrence,  New  Year,  1903. 

"I  Will  Remember  all  the  Way."    Deut.  8:2     106 
Lawrence,  Memorial  Day,  1904. 

Nuggets 119 


9063S0 


AN   APPRECIATION 

BY  WM.   L.    BURDICK 

OF  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  KANSAS 

TN  THE  summer  of  1856,  when  the  nation 
■*■  could  already  see  the  coming  flames  of 
civil  war,  and  when  the  struggle  of  patriots 
to  make  Kansas  free  was  at  its  height,  four 
devoted  young  men,  Sylvester  Storrs,  Groves- 
nor  Morse,  Rosewell  Parker,  and  Richard 
Cordley,  students  at  Andover  Theological 
Seminary,  consecrated  themselves  to  their 
country's  cause.  They  were  dubbed  "The 
Kansas  Band,"  and  the  crusaders  of  old  fol- 
lowed the  banner  of  the  cross  with  no  greater 
loyalty,  fervency,  and  zeal,  and  in  no  deeper 
spirit  of  self-sacrifice,  than  did  these  young 
men,  when  putting  behind  them  the  promise 
of  more  lucrative  pastorates  in  the  East, 
they  gladly  pledged  themselves  to  the  work  of 
the  churches  in  Kansas.  They  asked  for  no 
desirable  or  congenial  locations,  for  no  fixed 
compensation,  but  only  for  an  opportunity  to 
serve.  Upon  graduation  they  entered  with 
enthusiasm  upon  their  work,  and  their  influence 
in  the  upbuilding  of  the  new  state  can  never 


AN  APPRECIATION 


be  estimated.  It  is  to  the  glory  of  Congrega- 
tionalism that  her  churches  were  the  first  to 
enter  the  disputed  territory,  and  that  the  edu- 
cational institutions  of  the  state  were,  in  their 
early  history,  fostered  by  "The  Kansas  Band 
of  Andover." 

Of  the  four  original  members  of  this  band, 
Sylvester  Storrs  became  the  Home  Missionary 
Supt.  in  Kansas,  and  gave  heroic  service  dur- 
ing the  hard  pioneer  years.  Grovesnor  Morse 
located  at  Emporia,  and  literally  gave  his  life 
to  the  labor  of  establishing  the  State  Normal 
School  there.  Rosewell  Parker  went  to  Man- 
hattan, and  materially  aided  in  building  up 
the  State  Agricultural  College  in  that  com- 
munity. Richard  Cordley,  the  subject  of  this 
sketch,  began  his  work  at  Lawrence,  taking 
charge  of  Plymouth  Church,  the  first  church 
building  erected  in  the  state,  and  for  forty-four 
years  (thirty-eight  of  which  were  spent  in 
Lawrence,  and  an  interval  of  six  years  at 
Emporia)  he  served  the  people  of  Kansas  with 
such  love  and  devotion  that  his  memory  will 
ever  remain  to  them  a  benediction. 

The  incidents  of  his  early  life  were  typical 
of  the  sons  of  sturdy  western  pioneers.  He  was 
of  English  birth,  being  born  in  Nottingham, 
Sept.  6,  1829,  but  his  parents  emigrated  to 
America  when  he  was  only   four  years  old. 


AN  APPRECIATION  Ix 

The  family  located  about  fifteen  miles  south- 
west from  Ann  Arbor,  Michigan,  and  there  in 
the  wilderness,  three  miles  from  his  nearest 
neighbor,  the  father  of  Richard  Cordley  built 
his  log-cabin.  There  were  no  roads,  and  they 
found  their  way  only  by  means  of  blazed  trees. 
The  early  years  were  marked  with  hard  strug- 
gles, and  the  wolf  was  often  at  the  door.  He 
was  nine  years  old  before  he  saw  the  inside  of 
a  school-house,  yet  like  so  many  boys  who  have 
risen  from  youthful  hardship  to  influential 
manhood,  he  was  blessed  with  a  mother  of 
rare  intelligence  and  devotion.  She  carefully 
taught  her  children,  and  her  gentle  Christian 
character  was  an  inspiration  to  them. 

When  nine  years  old  he  attended  his  first 
school  which  was  kept  in  a  log-house  built 
by  the  efforts  of  his  father.  A  few  years  later 
he  was  enabled  to  attend  school  in  Ann  Arbor 
every  winter,  and,  finally,  after  the  overcom- 
ing of  many  difficulties,  he  entered  the  Uni- 
versity of  Michigan.  He  mostly  made  his 
own  way  through  college,  working  every  spare 
hour  and  also  during  vacations.  He  graduated, 
with  honors,  in  1854,  and  three  years  later  he 
graduated  from  the  theological  school  at 
Andover.  At  the  seminary,  the  vacation 
periods  were,  even  as  at  college,  only  opportuni- 
ties  for   work,   and   during   the  vacations   at 


AN  APPRECIATION 


Andover,  he  was,  at  different  times  in  the  serv- 
ice of  the  American  Sunday  School  Union  in 
Pennsylvania;  in  charge  of  the  mission  station 
of  the  church  at  South  Danvers,  now  Peabody; 
and  in  the  employ  of  the  City  Missionary 
Society  of  Hartford.  When  he  graduated  from 
Andover,  in  1857,  he  had  "never,"  to  use  his 
own  words,  "had  a  real  vacation"  in  his  life. 

He  went  to  Lawrence  that  same  year.  He 
had  received  a  call  to  the  church  at  Ann  Arbor, 
the  location  of  his  alma  mater,  but  true  to  his 
purpose  to  give  his  all  to  the  cause  of  Kansas, 
he  declined  a  salary  two  or  three  times  as  much 
as  the  little  home-missionary  church  at  Law- 
rence paid,  and  gladly  threw  in  his  lot  with 
his  chosen  people.  After  a  year  in  Lawrence, 
he  returned  to  his  Michigan  home  for  the  pur- 
pose of  bringing  back  with  him  his  bride. 
Mrs.  Cordley's  patient,  faithful,  loyal  sym- 
pathy and  intelligent  cooperation  were  ever  a 
tower  of  strength  to  her  husband,  and  for  her 
unselfish  devotion  during  the  years  of  the  early 
troublous  times,  and  for  her  services  of  love 
to  all  people,  the  city  of  Lawrence  and  Ply- 
mouth Church  owe  lasting  gratitude. 

From  the  beginning  of  his  pastorate,  Richard 
Cordley  attracted  all  classes  by  the  originality 
and  sympathetic  quality  of  his  sermons.  He 
was  peculiarly   fitted   for   his  work.     Himself 


AN   APPRECIATION  xi 

the  son  of  a  pioneer,  he  understood  his  people 
and  his  training  and  experience  enabled  him 
to  enter  into  the  life  of  all,  the  mechanic,  the 
farmer,  the  student,  the  university  professor. 
Throughout  his  long  ministry  he  never,  as  a 
rule,  preached  doctrinal  sermons,  but  he 
preached  the  great,  loving  fatherhood  of  God, 
and  the  Christian  democracy  of  all  His  chil- 
dren. He  was  a  man  of  great  spirituality, 
and  because  he  was  spiritual  he  saw  the  depths 
of  familiar  texts,  and  the  child  and  the  sage 
were  alike  profited  by  his  sermons.  He  was 
called  by  many  the  "Nugget  Preacher,"  by 
reason  of  the  thoughts  of  pure  gold  with  which 
his  discourses  abounded. 

During  the  years  of  the  war,  Lawrence  was 
practically  an  armed  camp.  It  was  at  this 
period  that  his  sermons  rang  with  vigorous 
patriotism,  and  that  he  was  known  as  the 
"Abolition  Preacher."  He  held  services  in 
camp,  visited  the  sick  in  the  hospitals,  and  even 
took  his  turn  standing  guard  at  the  block-house. 
It  was  eminently  fitting  that  after  the  close  of 
the  war  the  local  Grand  Army  Post  made  him 
its  permanent  chaplain,  and  that  his  grave  is 
now  annually  decorated  on  Memorial  Day  as 
that  of  a  comrade. 

On  the  terrible  day  of  Friday,  Aug.  21,  1863, 
known  as  the  day  of  Quantrill's  raid,  he  was 


xii  AN   APPRECIATION 


one  of  those  whose  life  was  particularly  sought, 
owing  to  his  pronounced  stand  for  the  cause  of 
the  Union  and  for  the  freedom  of  the  slave. 
No  pen  can  adequately  portray  the  horrors  of 
that  morning.  Like  a  tornado,  a  band  of 
cowardly  assassins,  mostly  Missouri  guerillas, 
led  by  a  fiend  in  human-shape,  the  despicable 
Quantrill,  burst  upon  the  doomed  town,  and 
without  warning  began  their  awful  work  of 
pillage,  arson,  robbery,  and  murder.  They 
shot  down  in  cold  blood  the  unarmed  citizens, 
set  fire  to  the  homes  and  places  of  business, 
and  plundered  the  shops  and  dwelling-houses. 
They  robbed  the  dead,  and  tore  wedding-rings 
from  women's  hands.  The  mangled  forms  of 
their  dead  and  dying  victims  they  hurled  into 
the  blazing  flames  of  the  dwellings.  Never 
was  there  a  more  horrid  butchery  of  human 
beings  in  the  history  of  civilization,  character- 
ized as  it  was  with  all  the  shocking  and  revolt- 
ing brutality  of  blood-thirsty  savages.  They 
stayed  not  the  bullet  and  the  torch  in  their 
cowardly  and  barbarous  slaughter  till  they 
had  out-shamed  an  Indian  massacre.  It  was 
the  culmination  of  the  border-ruffianism  of  the 
war,  and  the  defenseless  and  innocent  citizens 
of  Lawrence  were  sacrificed  to  the  cause  of 
liberty  merely  because  they  were  the  represen- 
tatives of  the  advocates  of  human  freedom. 


AN  APPRECIATION 


Richard  Cordley  escaped  death  by  fleeing 
across  the  river,  but  his  little  white  cottage 
was  burned  to  the  ground.  One  of  the  great 
regrets  of  Quantrill  and  his  fellow-murderers 
on  that  day  was  their  failure  to  kill  the  "aboli- 
tion preacher." 

The  services  of  Richard  Cordley  to  education 
were  state-wide.  He  was  one  of  the  founders 
of  Washburn  College,  at  Topeka,  and  was  one 
of  its  trustees  as  long  as  he  lived.  He  gave 
liberally  of  his  time  and  of  his  money  to  its 
cause.  In  1871,  he  was  elected  its  president, 
but  he  yielded  to  the  entreaties  of  Plymouth 
Church  and  remained  in  Lawrence.  To  the 
State  University  he  was  always  a  devoted 
friend.  The  first  degree  bestowed  by  the  uni- 
versity was  that  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  upon 
Richard  Cordley. 

His  work  as  a  historian  was  also  of  high 
character.  His  books  upon  "Pioneer  Days  in 
Kansas,"  and  "A  History  of  Lawrence,  Kan- 
sas," are  valuable  contributions  to  the  history 
of  the  middle-west.  The  modesty  which  al- 
ways marked  his  gentle  spirit  is  noticeable  in 
his  writings.  He  wrote  with  self-effacement, 
seldom  speaking  of  himself. 

The  greatest  thing  in  Richard  Cordley  was 
himself.  The  beauty  of  his  character  was  re- 
flected everywhere.     The  test  of  preaching  is 


xiv  AN   APPRECIATION 

not  scholarship,  not  eloquence,  but  helpfulness. 
Richard  Cordley  helped  all  who  ever  heard 
him  speak  because  he  spoke  from  the  heart. 
He  was  simplicity  itself,  but  was  always  intel- 
ligently progressive  and  in  touch  with  modern 
scholarship.  In  young  manhood  he  freed  him- 
self from  the  shackles  of  ancient  creeds,  and 
under  the  influence  of  his  preaching,  Plymouth 
Church  adopted  a  broad,  tolerant  covenant  as 
the  test  of  admission  to  its  membership  rather 
than  a  subscription  to  a  dogmatic  creed.  He 
believed  in  men  and  loved  them,  always  see- 
ing some  good  in  everyone.  His  influence  has 
left  its  mark  upon  the  spiritual  and  intellec- 
tual life  not  only  of  his  city  and  of  his  state, 
but  also,  in  view  of  his  work  in  the  pioneer 
days,  he  is  justly  entitled  to  national  fame  in 
Congregationalism. 

He  died  July  ii,  1904,  aged  seventy-five 
years,  the  last  survivor  of  the  "Andover 
Band." 


SERMONS 
I 

"when   JESUS   WAS    BORN   IN    BETHLEHEM*' 
Matt.  2:  I 

V\  T^HEN  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem,  it 
'  '  seemed  a  very  ordinary  event.  Very 
few  people  knew  about  it,  and  very  few  people 
cared  about  it.  The  town  of  his  birth  was  an 
obscure  village  apart  from  all  the  centers  of 
interest.  It  had  been  the  birthplace  of  kings, 
but  it  was  not  a  kingly  place.  The  family 
from  which  he  sprung  was  also  obscure  and 
unknown.  It  was  of  royal  lineage,  but  the 
lineage  involved  no  heirship.  So  little  did 
his  coming  impress  men  that  even  the  time 
of  his  birth  was  not  noted.  We  do  not  know 
the  day  of  the  month,  nor  the  month  of  the 
year,  nor  even  the  year  in  the  century.  We 
may  even  go  farther  than  this  and  say,  we  do 
not  know  the  century.  The  village  of  Beth- 
lehem itself  did  not  know  of  his  birth.  For 
when  Herod  sought  him  that  he  might  destroy 
him,  he  could  not  find  him.  The  neighbors 
in  that  little  village  could  not  tell  of  the  king 


SERMONS 


who  had  been  born  among  them.  The  world 
lay  ignorant  of  its  Redeemer,  and  unconscious 
of  its  redemption.  The  great  world  went  on  as 
before  while  he  who  was  to  transform  it  was 
an  obscure  child,  in  an  obscure  home,  in  an 
obscure  town. 

"When  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem,"  there 
were  but  few  who  knew  of  it.  The  rulers  knew 
nothing  of  it.  Herod  and  his  officers  knew  noth- 
ing of  it.  The  priests  and  elders  knew  nothing 
of  it.  Weeks  after  they  could  only  tell  of 
the  prophecy  concerning  it.  But  some  sim- 
ple shepherds,  watching  the  stars,  and  watch- 
ing their  flocks  by  night,  heard  the  story 
and  heard  the  song.  To  them  the  heavens 
were  full  of  messengers,  and  the  air  was  full  of 
music.  A  multitude  of  the  heavenly  host  ap- 
peared, confirming  the  word  of  the  angel,  and 
joining  in  the  song  of  the  night;  "Glory  to  God 
in  the  Highest — Peace  on  Earth — Good  will 
to  men."  It  is  significant  that  when  Jesus  was 
born  in  Bethlehem,  the  news  was  first  told  to 
laboring  men.  It  was  not  to  the  owners  of  the 
sheep,  nor  to  the  proprietors  of  the  soil.  But 
the  message  came  to  poor  shepherds  whose  toil 
took  them  from  their  homes,  men  whose  life 
and  whose  living  was  to  watch  their  flocks  by 
night.  In  their  simple  life,  close  to  Nature's 
heart,  they  heard  the  voice  of  Nature's  King. 


SERMONS 


They  had  no  opinions  to  set  aside,  no  inter- 
ests to  subserve,  no  pride  to  overcome.  They 
listened  simply  to  the  story,  and  received  and 
reported  it  just  as  it  came  to  them. 

"When  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem,"  there 
were  others  waiting  for  the  news  in  the  Holy 
City  itself.  It  was  not  the  High  Priest.  He 
was  expecting,  as  the  Prophets  had  foretold. 
But  he  was  looking  towards  ambitions  and  pre- 
ferments and  power.  It  was  not  the  Jewish 
council.  They,  too,  were  counting  the  days  of 
prophetic  promise,  but  looking  in  the  line  of 
national  glory  and  personal  promotion.  But 
there  were  devout  souls  who  had  purer  instincts 
and  clearer  insight.  There  was  Simeon  who 
had  read  the  prophets  in  the  light  of  his  own 
spiritual  life  and  had  been  assured  that  he 
should  see  the  Lord's  Christ.  He  had  come 
to  realize  that  the  fulness  of  time  had  come. 
When  he  saw  the  child,  he  took  him  in  his  arms 
and  blessed  God,  and  said,  "Now  let  thy  serv- 
ant depart  in  peace,  for  mine  eyes  have  seen 
thy  salvation."  There  was  Anna  also,  the 
prophetess,  a  good  soul,  who  dwelt  with  God, 
and  who  had  come  to  feel  the  impulse  of  God 
upon  her.  These  devout  souls  knew  the  signs 
of  the  times,  as  one  sometimes  feels  the  signs 
of  morning  before  the  morning  light  appears. 
She  felt  the  currents  of  Providence,  and  knew 


SERMONS 


the  movements  of  God,  as  if  a  voice  had  spoken 
to  her. 

"When  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem,"  there 
were  still  others  looking  for  the  coming  of  the 
King.  Far  away,  over  the  eastern  mountains, 
were  men  who  had  caught  the  world's  expecta- 
tion. They  had  heard  of  the  prophecies,  and 
they  were  studying  the  signs.  As  the  shep- 
herds watched  their  flocks,  they  watched  the 
stars.  As  was  customary  among  the  sages  of 
those  eastern  lands,  they  spent  their  nights 
under  the  open  heavens,  and  watched  them  as 
they  rose  and  set.  Never  since  perhaps,  have 
the  stars  been  so  carefully  observed,  as  by  the 
astronomers  of  those  early  ages.  We  know 
more  of  the  philosophy  of  the  stars,  but  they 
knew  more  of  the  stars.  Every  variation  was 
marked.  Every  new  phase  was  watched  and 
its  meaning  sought.  These  men  of  patient 
contemplation  had  heard  of  the  Star  of  Jacob — 
the  Star  of  Israel.  At  this  time  some  new  star, 
or  new  phase  appeared  in  the  sky.  In  the 
limited  range  of  their  knowledge,  there  was  no 
analogy  and  no  comparison.  It  seemed  to 
them  a  new  light  with  no  antecedent.  Pos- 
sibly our  modern  methods  might  have  traced  it 
out,  but  they  had  nothing  but  what  they  could 
see.  When  they  sought  to  interpret  it,  they 
thought  of  the  world's  expectation — the  com- 


SERMONS 


ing  of  the  King.  So  they  began  their  long 
journey  towards  the  setting  sun.  After  months 
of  weary  travel,  they  came  in  sight  of  the  great 
Western  Sea,  and  turned  their  steps  towards 
Jerusalem,  the  City  of  the  Great  King.  There 
they  were  more  minutely  instructed,  and  were 
led  to  where  the  young  child  was.  While  the 
nation  to  which  he  came  was  unconscious  of 
his  presence;  while  the  keen  search  of  the 
Roman  police  failed  to  discover  him;  while 
his  very  neighbors  were  unaware  of  his  prox- 
imity, these  sages  from  far  away  had  made 
their  long  journey  to  the  little  town  of  Beth- 
lehem, and  the  very  house  where  he  lay.  And 
when  they  came  into  the  house,  "they  saw 
the  young  child  with  Mary  his  mother  and 
fell  down  and  worshipped  him.  And  when  they 
had  opened  their  treasures,  they  presented 
unto  him  gifts,  gold,  frankincense  and  myrrh." 
Thus  "when  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem," 
men  of  widely  different  localities,  and  widely 
different  conditions,  knew  of  his  coming,  and 
recognized  his  presence.  First  the  shepherds 
in  their  nightly  watch  over  their  sheep  found 
him  in  the  manger,  as  the  angel  had  said. 
Then  a  little  later,  a  few  devout  souls  in  Jeru- 
salem knew  him  as  he  was  brought  into  the 
temple.  And  a  few  months  later  still,  the 
sages  from  the  far  east  found  him  and  knew 


SERMONS 


him  as  they  were  guided  by  the  Star.  All 
these  men  were  about  their  common  occupa- 
tions when  the  news,  or  the  impression,  came 
to  them.  The  shepherds  were  keeping  watch 
over  their  flocks  by  night.  Simeon  and  Anna 
were  attending  to  the  service  of  the  temple  as 
was  their  wont.  The  sages  were  studying  the 
stars  after  the  manner  of  their  class.  Others 
were  looking  for  him,  but  each  for  a  human  pur- 
pose. The  chief  priests  were  watching  for 
him  as  a  medium  of  power  and  promotion; 
Herod  was  soon  seeking  for  him  that  he  might 
destroy  him.  But  these  men  were  about  their 
regular  occupations.  They  were  doing  the 
work  which  belonged  to  their  lot.  As  they 
faithfully  wrought  in  the  line  of  their  calling, 
this  larger  thing  was  revealed  to  them.  Many 
wise  men  in  Judea  studied  hard  that  they  might 
know  what  manner  of  person  the  Messiah 
should  be  and  yet  they  did  not  know  him  when 
they  saw  him.  Men  of  influence  and  power 
in  the  Jewish  state,  and  in  the  Jewish  Church, 
watched  diligently  for  his  appearance,  but  they 
saw  not  the  star  and  knew  not  the  King.  But 
shepherds  about  their  nightly  work;  devout 
souls  about  their  daily  service;  sages  engaged 
in  their  usual  study,  became  aware  of  the  com- 
ing of  a  new  Era — the  coming  of  a  new  light. 
Away  from  the  selfish  world;  away  from  the 


SERMONS 


maddening  crowd,  they  became  conscious  of 
a  new  force,  and  a  new  condition  among  men. 
Somehow  the  heavens  brightened;  somehow 
the  earth  glowed ;  somehow  hope  began  to  dawn. 
These  children  of  nature  saw  and  felt  the  in- 
coming of  a  new  day,  and  recognized  the  day- 
star  and  the  dawn.  The  vision  came  to  toilers 
by  night,  to  devotion  by  day,  to  students  afar. 
The  new  order  was  made  known  to  the  labor, 
to  the  devotion,  to  the  intelligence  of  men. 
The  shepherds  might  represent  the  work,  Sim- 
eon the  worship,  and  the  sages  the  intelli- 
gence of  mankind. 

The  message  of  Jesus  has  always  been  com- 
ing to  men  apart  from  their  condition.  The 
poor  heard  him  gladly  from  the  very  start. 
Publicans  and  sinners  flocked  to  him,  while 
Pharisees  mocked  and  scribes  derided.  In  all 
the  years  since,  the  toiling  millions  have  rested 
their  cause  with  him.  Every  struggle  for  jus- 
tice wins  by  an  appeal  to  him.  Every  strug- 
gle for  better  conditions  finds  its  justification 
in  him.  All  life  is  glorified,  and  all  toil  is 
honored  by  the  word  of  him  whose  life  was  with 
the  lowly,  and  whose  lot  was  with  the  poor. 
It  was  a  wonderful  illustration  of  the  impar- 
tiality of  God  that  he  should  leave  the  city  to 
slumber,  while  he  sent  his  message  to  shepherds 
who  kept  watch  over  their  flocks  by  night. 


SERMONS 


He  dignified  toil  and  toilers  for  all  time  by  that 
wonderful  display.  Toil  may  exult,  and  pov- 
erty lift  its  head,  for  the  King  of  Glory  was 
born  a  peasant,  and  to  peasants  the  first  an- 
nouncement was  made.  The  Providence  of 
God  has  always  taught  the  same  lesson.  The 
children  of  toil  have  often  been  the  instru- 
ments of  his  Providence,  and  the  poor  have 
often  stood  in  the  line  of  light.  The  call  of 
God  has  come  to  men  of  low  estate,  and  the 
honors  of  God  have  rested  on  men  of  humble 
condition. 

"When  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem,"  pov- 
erty ceased  to  degrade  and  toil  ceased  to  dis- 
qualify. The  highest  honors  of  Heaven  came 
to  the  lowliest  tribes  of  earth.  Jesus  was  poor. 
There  could  be  none  poorer  than  he.  His 
father  was  a  carpenter,  his  mother  a  peasant 
girl  of  Galilee.  He  had  not  where  to  lay  his 
head.  Often  they  had  no  bread  as  they  wan- 
dered over  the  hills  of  Judea.  But  this  de- 
tracted not  one  whit  from  the  dignity  of  his 
person,  or  the  manliness  of  his  presence.  He 
taught  with  the  same  authority;  he  bore  him- 
self with  the  same  assurance;  he  awed  men  with 
the  same  signs  of  power.  And  yet  with  all 
this  were  the  tokens  and  the  signs  of  tender- 
ness and  sympathy. 

Jesus  was  poor,  yet  made  many  rich.     He 


SERMONS 


had  nothing,  and  yet  was  heir  of  all  things. 
He  received  nothing,  yet  gave  gifts  to  men. 
The  heritage  he  won  for  himself,  he  won  for  all 
men. 

"When  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem,"  devo- 
tion received  a  new  sanction.  Then,  as  ever 
since,  devout  hearts  knew  him.  They  who  seek 
God  are  always  drawn  to  Jesus.  They  who 
trust  God  believe  in  Him.  Simeon  only  saw 
him  and  he  knew  him.  Devout  hearts  needed 
only  to  see  him.  Put  Jesus  before  them  and 
they  recognize  the  features.  He  is  what  they 
are  looking  for.  He  presents  to  them  what 
they  are  struggling  to  attain.  You  have  often 
had  the  hazy  image  of  an  idea  in  your  mind, 
but  could  not  give  it  form.  Some  one  else  has 
expressed  the  thought,  and  your  own  mind 
was  clarified.  The  hazy  shadow  takes  form 
in  our  thought  when  another  gives  utterance. 
In  their  light  we  see  light. 

When  we  see  Jesus  it  seems  as  if  we  had 
always  known  him.  We  had  been  struggling 
for  such  a  conception,  but  never  seized  it. 
But  looking  at  him  our  shadowy  images  take 
form,  and  our  fragmentary  thoughts  find  a 
content.  He  is  the  substance  of  our  best 
hopes,  the  reality  of  our  best  ideals.  To  all 
sincere  seekers,  Jesus  is  his  own  witness.  He 
bears  his  own  credentials  in  voice  and  step.     If 


10  SERMONS 


the  historic  testimony  should  be  lost,  and 
Jesus  should  stand,  without  date  or  location 
or  historic  environment,  he  would  still  approve 
himself  to  men  for  all  he  claims  to  be.  Devout 
souls  would  still  receive  him.  As  he  came  into 
the  temple  of  their  lives,  though  they  knew 
not  whence,  nor  by  whom,  they  could  bless 
God  for  the  sight.  Not  every  one  can  trace 
the  line  of  historic  connection.  But  all  can 
understand  him  as  he  stands  before  them. 
No  matter  when — no  matter  whence — no  mat- 
ter how — he  is  his  own  best  evidence,  and  his 
own  best  exposition.  Simeon  knew  not  who 
he  was,  nor  whence  he  came,  and  yet  he  knew 
him  as  he  entered  the  temple.  The  whence, 
and  the  when  and  the  where  may  be  mysteries, 
but  the  personality  may  be  plain. 

"When  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem,"  the 
sages  were  aware  of  his  coming.  Jesus  ap- 
pealed to  the  learning  of  the  world,  as  well  as 
to  its  devotion.  He  has  ever  satisfied  the  intel- 
ligence of  men.  Other  faiths  have  faded  in 
the  dawn  of  intelligence.  The  religion  of 
Jesus  is  intelligible  to  the  simple,  and  yet  sat- 
isfies the  intelligent.  The  larger  the  light, 
the  brighter  it  shines.  No  intensity  of  light 
has  shown  defects  in  Jesus.  He  seems  the 
more  perfect  the  more  clearly  we  see  him. 
Advancing  civilization  does  not  pass  beyond 


SERMONS  II 


him.  Enlarging  knowledge  does  not  outgrow 
him.  Progressive  study  does  not  leave  him 
behind.  He  is  always  abreast  of  the  best 
thought.  The  highest  ideal  of  personal  duty 
will  find  itself  foreshadowed  by  him.  The 
highest  conception  of  social  order  will  still 
look  to  him  for  its  model. 

Thus  the  coming  of  Jesus  appealed  to  these 
three  classes:  the  shepherds  and  the  prophets 
and  the  sages.  It  appealed  to  the  poor,  the 
pious  and  the  intelligent;  to  them  that  toiled, 
to  them  that  prayed,  to  them  that  thought. 
It  has  come  down  the  centuries  with  the  same 
appeal.  These  may  represent  the  three  classes 
of  men.  In  all  the  centuries  Christ  has  ful- 
filled the  intimation  of  his  childhood. 

He  appeals  to  us  in  the  same  way.  He  ap- 
peals first  to  our  intelligence.  He  himself  is 
beyond  question.  Cut  him  adrift  from  all 
historic  connection,  and  he  justifies  himself 
to  the  intelligence  of  men.  Your  study  of  the 
stars,  and  your  study  of  the  earth,  and  your 
study  of  men,  lead  you  to  him.  Every  human 
condition  needs  him;  every  human  problem 
calls  for  him.  Your  thinking  will  be  without 
a  center  if  you  think  without  him.  Human 
society  will  be  "a  muddle"  if  God  be  not 
in  the  center.  And  your  devout  instincts 
need  him.     For  you  have  devout  instincts  even 


12  SERMONS 


if  you  are  not  devout.  There  is  a  prophet  in 
your  soul  whether  you  let  him  speak  or  not. 
There  is  a  prophet  in  every  man's  soul.  The 
prophet  within  you  will  know  Jesus  when  he 
comes  into  the  temple  of  your  thought.  When 
your  intelligence  finds  him,  the  prophet  within 
you  will  know  him. 

When  your  intelligence  finds  him,  and  your 
soul  shall  receive  him,  then  your  hands  shall 
serve  him.  Intelligence  and  devotion  and  labor 
serve  him.  Intelligence  and  devotion  and 
labor  shall  join  in  serving  him  who  came  from 
God.  The  three  classes  which  recognized 
Jesus  when  he  was  born  in  Bethlehem, — the 
sages  with  their  wisdom,  the  Simeons  with 
their  devotion,  and  the  shepherds  with  their 
labor — shall  find  a  parallel  in  your  life.  Intel- 
ligence shall  find  the  Lord,  devotion  shall  ac- 
cept him  and  labor  shall  serve  him.  The 
day  when  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem  shall 
be  eclipsed  by  the  day  when  Jesus  is  born  in 
your  life.  For  the  scene  in  Bethlehem  is 
nothing  to  you  till  you  have  made  it  your  own. 
The  world's  Christmas  was  when  Jesus  was 
born  in  Bethlehem,  but  your  Christmas  will 
be  when  Jesus  shall  come  into  your  life.  Then 
you  with  the  sages  shall  find  him;  with  the 
prophets  you  shall  receive  him,  and  with  the 
shepherds  you  shall  serve  him. 


II 

"come  unto  me" 

Matt.  2:28 

OOME  one  has  said  that  these  three  words 
^^  more  nearly  express  the  attitude  of  Jesus 
to  mankind  than  any  words  that  could  be 
chosen.  It  is  the  attitude  of  invitation — which 
is  the  permanent  attitude  of  Jesus.  He  knew 
he  had  something  to  give  men,  and  wanted 
them  to  come  and  get  it.  He  knew  he  could  do 
something  for  men,  and  he  wanted  them  to 
come  and  receive  it.  He  could  not  look  upon 
a  multitude  but  he  was  moved  with  compas- 
sion. He  could  never  see  people  about  him 
but  he  felt  impelled  to  teach  them.  He  could 
never  see  people  in  want  or  in  trouble  but  he 
was  impelled  to  help  them.  Thus  he  bore 
himself  through  all  his  earthly  life. 

But  Jesus  came  from  God.  He  was  the 
Word,  which  was  with  God  in  the  beginning. 
He  expressed  God  to  men.  He  was  in  time 
what  he  was  in  Eternity.  God's  eternal 
thought  was  vocalized  in  the  life  of  Jesus 
Christ.  God  makes  himself  known  in  a  great 
many  ways.  He  makes  known  his  power  and 
wisdom  in  his  works.     He  makes  known  his 

13 


14  SERMONS 


law  in  the  human  conscience.  He  makes 
known  his  sovereignty  and  providence  in 
history  and  Hfe.  But  Jesus  Christ  is  the  final 
and  full  expression.  "Here  the  whole  Deity 
is  known.  We  see  God  in  the  face  of  Jesus 
Christ." 

And  Jesus  spoke  for  all  the  ages.  It  is  quite 
remarkable  that  so  few  of  the  teachings  of  Jesus 
are  local  and  temporary.  The  truths  he  taught 
are  of  universal  application.  What  Jesus  said 
of  God  is  forever  and  everywhere  true.  God 
is  now  and  forever  what  he  seems  in  Jesus 
Christ.  The  attitude  of  Jesus  is  the  attitude 
of  the  eternal  throne.  Whenever  a  man  comes 
to  God  he  can  expect  to  be  met  in  the  spirit  of 
Jesus  Christ. 

"The  homage  that  we  render  thee 
Is  still  our  Father's  own; 
No  jealous  claim  or  rivalry 

Divides  the  Cross  and  Throne." 

God's  attitude  is  forever  the  inviting  atti- 
tude; and  God's  voice  is  forever  saying,  "Come 
unto  me." 

And  God  calls  us  because  he  wants  us;  he 
wants  our  lives;  he  wants  our  love;  he  wants 
our  service. 

First  of  all:  Christ  wants  us  ourselves.  There 
are  some  things  to  which  a  man  gives  a  spec- 
ified service,   and   there   are  other  things   to 


SERMONS  15 


which  he  gives  himself.  A  man  gives  his  em- 
ployer a  specified  number  of  hours.  He  gives 
his  teacher  a  fair  knowledge  of  certain  les- 
sons. He  owes  his  friends  certain  social  obli- 
gations. In  many  directions  he  has  limited 
responsibilities.  But  to  his  home  he  gives 
himself.  He  does  not  give  sections  of  himself 
to  the  things  he  loves.  If  his  child  be  sick  he 
will  sit  by  its  bedside  day  and  night,  and  his 
last  dollar  and  the  last  dollar  he  can  get  is  at 
its  service.  It  is  not,  "I  will  give  two  hours 
a  day,  or  so  much  a  week,"  but,  "all  I  have, 
and  all  I  can  do."  All  he  is  and  all  he  has  are 
on  demand  that  his  child  may  be  restored. 
There  is  no  measure  and  no  limit,  except  the 
measure  and  limit  of  ability.  This  is  what  it 
means  to  give  one's  self.  This  is  the  measure 
of  all  the  highest  obligations.  And  this  is  the 
spirit  of  all  the  best  service,  of  all  service  that 
is  trust-worthy  and  reliable.  In  some  such 
sense  Christ  wants  you.  It  is  not  a  section 
of  your  personality,  or  of  your  time,  or  of  your 
means,  but  he  wants  you  yourself,  with  all 
which  that  implies. 

And  as  Paul  says,  "This  is  your  reasonable 
service."  It  is  reasonable  you  should  give 
yourself  to  your  home,  for  your  life  is  wrapped 
up  in  your  home.  It  is  reasonable  you  should 
give  yourself  to  your  country,  for  your  country 


i6  SERMONS 


has  in  its  keeping  all  that  you  have  and  are. 
And  it  is  reasonable  you  should  give  yourself 
to  God,  for  God  is  the  giver  of  all  you  have  and 
the  foundation  of  all  you  hope  for.  This  con- 
secration does  not  determine  what  you  shall 
do,  but  it  determines  the  spirit  of  whatever 
you  may  do.  You  may  serve  your  home  in 
any  one  of  a  thousand  different  employments, 
but  you  are  at  its  call  for  anything  it  may  need. 
You  may  serve  your  country  by  being  a  good 
citizen,  and  attending  steadily  to  the  work  you 
are  engaged  in,  but  you  are  at  her  call  for  spe- 
cial service  whenever  she  may  need  you.  You 
may  be  called  upon  to  serve  on  the  jury,  to 
serve  as  special  police  in  case  of  disturbance, 
or  to  go  abroad  as  a  soldier  in  case  she  is 
threatened  by  foreign  foes.  You  may  serve 
God  in  your  home  and  in  your  daily  calling, 
but  you  are  at  the  call  of  God  to  serve  him  in 
whatever  line  his  providence  may  lead  you. 
His  claims  are  higher  than  the  claims  of  coun- 
try, for  he  made  your  country  all  it  is.  His 
claims  are  higher  than  the  claims  of  home. 
God's  gifts  and  God's  care  have  made  home 
possible  to  you.  He  wants  you  with  all  you 
have  and  all  you  are.  He  wants  you  with  your 
country,  that  you  may  serve  your  country  in 
his  name.  He  wants  you  with  your  home,  that 
your  home  may  itself  belong  to  God  and  be  a 


SERMONS 
I 

"when   JESUS   WAS    BORN   IN    BETHLEHEM" 

Matt.  2:  I 

A^T'HEN  Jesus  was  born  In  Bethlehem,  it 
'  '  seemed  a  very  ordinary  event.  Very 
few  people  knew  about  it,  and  very  few  people 
cared  about  it.  The  town  of  his  birth  was  an 
obscure  village  apart  from  all  the  centers  of 
interest.  It  had  been  the  birthplace  of  kings, 
but  it  was  not  a  kingly  place.  The  family 
from  which  he  sprung  was  also  obscure  and 
unknown.  It  was  of  royal  lineage,  but  the 
lineage  involved  no  heirship.  So  little  did 
his  coming  impress  men  that  even  the  time 
of  his  birth  was  not  noted.  We  do  not  know 
the  day  of  the  month,  nor  the  month  of  the 
year,  nor  even  the  year  in  the  century.  We 
may  even  go  farther  than  this  and  say,  we  do 
not  know  the  century.  The  village  of  Beth- 
lehem itself  did  not  know  of  his  birth.  For 
when  Herod  sought  him  that  he  might  destroy 
him,  he  could  not  find  him.  The  neighbors 
in  that  little  village  could  not  tell  of  the  king 


SERMONS 


who  had  been  born  among  them.  The  world 
lay  ignorant  of  its  Redeemer,  and  unconscious 
of  its  redemption.  The  great  world  went  on  as 
before  while  he  who  was  to  transform  it  was 
an  obscure  child,  in  an  obscure  home,  in  an 
obscure  town. 

"When  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem,"  there 
were  but  few  who  knew  of  it.  The  rulers  knew 
nothing  of  it.  Herod  and  his  officers  knew  noth- 
ing of  it.  The  priests  and  elders  knew  nothing 
of  it.  Weeks  after  they  could  only  tell  of 
the  prophecy  concerning  it.  But  some  sim- 
ple shepherds,  watching  the  stars,  and  watch- 
ing their  flocks  by  night,  heard  the  story 
and  heard  the  song.  To  them  the  heavens 
were  full  of  messengers,  and  the  air  was  full  of 
music.  A  multitude  of  the  heavenly  host  ap- 
peared, confirming  the  word  of  the  angel,  and 
joining  in  the  song  of  the  night;  "Glory  to  God 
in  the  Highest — Peace  on  Earth — Good  will 
to  men."  It  is  significant  that  when  Jesus  was 
born  in  Bethlehem,  the  news  was  first  told  to 
laboring  men.  It  was  not  to  the  owners  of  the 
sheep,  nor  to  the  proprietors  of  the  soil.  But 
the  message  came  to  poor  shepherds  whose  toil 
took  them  from  their  homes,  men  whose  life 
and  whose  living  was  to  watch  their  flocks  by 
night.  In  their  simple  life,  close  to  Nature's 
heart,  they  heard  the  voice  of  Nature's  King. 


SERMONS 


They  had  no  opinions  to  set  aside,  no  inter- 
ests to  subserve,  no  pride  to  overcome.  They 
listened  simply  to  the  story,  and  received  and 
reported  it  just  as  it  came  to  them. 

"When  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem,"  there 
were  others  waiting  for  the  news  in  the  Holy 
City  itself.  It  was  not  the  High  Priest.  He 
was  expecting,  as  the  Prophets  had  foretold. 
But  he  was  looking  towards  ambitions  and  pre- 
ferments and  power.  It  was  not  the  Jewish 
council.  They,  too,  were  counting  the  days  of 
prophetic  promise,  but  looking  in  the  line  of 
national  glory  and  personal  promotion.  But 
there  were  devout  souls  who  had  purer  instincts 
and  clearer  insight.  There  was  Simeon  who 
had  read  the  prophets  in  the  light  of  his  own 
spiritual  life  and  had  been  assured  that  he 
should  see  the  Lord's  Christ.  He  had  come 
to  realize  that  the  fulness  of  time  had  come. 
When  he  saw  the  child,  he  took  him  in  his  arms 
and  blessed  God,  and  said,  "Now  let  thy  serv- 
ant depart  In  peace,  for  mine  eyes  have  seen 
thy  salvation."  There  was  Anna  also,  the 
prophetess,  a  good  soul,  who  dwelt  with  God, 
and  who  had  come  to  feel  the  impulse  of  God 
upon  her.  These  devout  souls  knew  the  signs 
of  the  times,  as  one  sometimes  feels  the  signs 
of  morning  before  the  morning  light  appears. 
She  felt  the  currents  of  Providence,  and  knew 


SERMONS 


the  movements  of  God,  as  if  a  voice  had  spoken 
to  her. 

"When  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem,"  there 
were  still  others  looking  for  the  coming  of  the 
King.  Far  away,  over  the  eastern  mountains, 
were  men  who  had  caught  the  world's  expecta- 
tion. They  had  heard  of  the  prophecies,  and 
they  were  studying  the  signs.  As  the  shep- 
herds watched  their  flocks,  they  watched  the 
stars.  As  was  customary  among  the  sages  of 
those  eastern  lands,  they  spent  their  nights 
under  the  open  heavens,  and  watched  them  as 
they  rose  and  set.  Never  since  perhaps,  have 
the  stars  been  so  carefully  observed,  as  by  the 
astronomers  of  those  early  ages.  We  know 
more  of  the  philosophy  of  the  stars,  but  they 
knew  more  of  the  stars.  Every  variation  was 
marked.  Every  new  phase  was  watched  and 
its  meaning  sought.  These  men  of  patient 
contemplation  had  heard  of  the  Star  of  Jacob — 
the  Star  of  Israel.  At  this  time  some  new  star, 
or  new  phase  appeared  in  the  sky.  In  the 
limited  range  of  their  knowledge,  there  was  no 
analogy  and  no  comparison.  It  seemed  to 
them  a  new  light  with  no  antecedent.  Pos- 
sibly our  modern  methods  might  have  traced  it 
out,  but  they  had  nothing  but  what  they  could 
see.  When  they  sought  to  interpret  it,  they 
thought  of  the  world's  expectation — the  com- 


SERMONS 


ing  of  the  King.  So  they  began  their  long 
journey  towards  the  setting  sun.  After  months 
of  weary  travel,  they  came  in  sight  of  the  great 
Western  Sea,  and  turned  their  steps  towards 
Jerusalem,  the  City  of  the  Great  King.  There 
they  were  more  minutely  instructed,  and  were 
led  to  where  the  young  child  was.  While  the 
nation  to  which  he  came  was  unconscious  of 
his  presence;  while  the  keen  search  of  the 
Roman  police  failed  to  discover  him;  while 
his  very  neighbors  were  unaware  of  his  prox- 
imity, these  sages  from  far  away  had  made 
their  long  journey  to  the  little  town  of  Beth- 
lehem, and  the  very  house  where  he  lay.  And 
when  they  came  into  the  house,  "they  saw 
the  young  child  with  Mary  his  mother  and 
fell  down  and  worshipped  him.  And  when  they 
had  opened  their  treasures,  they  presented 
unto  him  gifts,  gold,  frankincense  and  myrrh." 
Thus  "when  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem," 
men  of  widely  different  localities,  and  widely 
different  conditions,  knew  of  his  coming,  and 
recognized  his  presence.  First  the  shepherds 
in  their  nightly  watch  over  their  sheep  found 
him  in  the  manger,  as  the  angel  had  said. 
Then  a  little  later,  a  few  devout  souls  in  Jeru- 
salem knew  him  as  he  was  brought  into  the 
temple.  And  a  few  months  later  still,  the 
sages  from  the  far  east  found  him  and  knew 


SERMONS 


him  as  they  were  guided  by  the  Star.  All 
these  men  were  about  their  common  occupa- 
tions when  the  news,  or  the  impression,  came 
to  them.  The  shepherds  were  keeping  watch 
over  their  flocks  by  night.  Simeon  and  Anna 
were  attending  to  the  service  of  the  temple  as 
was  their  wont.  The  sages  were  studying  the 
stars  after  the  manner  of  their  class.  Others 
were  looking  for  him,  but  each  for  a  human  pur- 
pose. The  chief  priests  were  watching  for 
him  as  a  medium  of  power  and  promotion; 
Herod  was  soon  seeking  for  him  that  he  might 
destroy  him.  But  these  men  were  about  their 
regular  occupations.  They  were  doing  the 
work  which  belonged  to  their  lot.  As  they 
faithfully  wrought  in  the  line  of  their  calling, 
this  larger  thing  was  revealed  to  them.  Many 
wise  men  in  Judea  studied  hard  that  they  might 
know  what  manner  of  person  the  Messiah 
should  be  and  yet  they  did  not  know  him  when 
they  saw  him.  Men  of  influence  and  power 
in  the  Jewish  state,  and  in  the  Jewish  Church, 
watched  diligently  for  his  appearance,  but  they 
saw  not  the  star  and  knew  not  the  King.  But 
shepherds  about  their  nightly  work;  devout 
souls  about  their  daily  service;  sages  engaged 
in  their  usual  study,  became  aware  of  the  com- 
ing of  a  new  Era — the  coming  of  a  new  light. 
Away  from  the  selfish  world;  away  from  the 


SERMONS 


maddening  crowd,  they  became  conscious  of 
a  new  force,  and  a  new  condition  among  men. 
Somehow  the  heavens  brightened;  somehow 
the  earth  glowed ;  somehow  hope  began  to  dawn. 
These  children  of  nature  saw  and  felt  the  in- 
coming of  a  new  day,  and  recognized  the  day- 
star  and  the  dawn.  The  vision  came  to  toilers 
by  night,  to  devotion  by  day,  to  students  afar. 
The  new  order  was  made  known  to  the  labor, 
to  the  devotion,  to  the  intelligence  of  men. 
The  shepherds  might  represent  the  work,  Sim- 
eon the  worship,  and  the  sages  the  intelli- 
gence of  mankind. 

The  message  of  Jesus  has  always  been  com- 
ing to  men  apart  from  their  condition.  The 
poor  heard  him  gladly  from  the  very  start. 
Publicans  and  sinners  flocked  to  him,  while 
Pharisees  mocked  and  scribes  derided.  In  all 
the  years  since,  the  toiling  millions  have  rested 
their  cause  with  him.  Every  struggle  for  jus- 
tice wins  by  an  appeal  to  him.  Every  strug- 
gle for  better  conditions  finds  its  justification 
in  him.  All  life  is  glorified,  and  all  toil  is 
honored  by  the  word  of  him  whose  life  was  with 
the  lowly,  and  whose  lot  was  with  the  poor. 
It  was  a  wonderful  illustration  of  the  impar- 
tiality of  God  that  he  should  leave  the  city  to 
slumber,  while  he  sent  his  message  to  shepherds 
who  kept  watch  over  their  flocks  by  night. 


8  SERMONS 


He  dignified  toil  and  toilers  for  all  time  by  that 
wonderful  display.  Toil  may  exult,  and  pov- 
erty lift  its  head,  for  the  King  of  Glory  was 
born  a  peasant,  and  to  peasants  the  first  an- 
nouncement was  made.  The  Providence  of 
God  has  always  taught  the  same  lesson.  The 
children  of  toil  have  often  been  the  instru- 
ments of  his  Providence,  and  the  poor  have 
often  stood  in  the  line  of  light.  The  call  of 
God  has  come  to  men  of  low  estate,  and  the 
honors  of  God  have  rested  on  men  of  humble 
condition. 

''When  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem,"  pov- 
erty ceased  to  degrade  and  toil  ceased  to  dis- 
qualify. The  highest  honors  of  Heaven  came 
to  the  lowliest  tribes  of  earth.  Jesus  was  poor. 
There  could  be  none  poorer  than  he.  His 
father  was  a  carpenter,  his  mother  a  peasant 
girl  of  Galilee.  He  had  not  where  to  lay  his 
head.  Often  they  had  no  bread  as  they  wan- 
dered over  the  hills  of  Judea.  But  this  de- 
tracted not  one  whit  from  the  dignity  of  his 
person,  or  the  manliness  of  his  presence.  He 
taught  with  the  same  authority;  he  bore  him- 
self with  the  same  assurance ;  he  awed  men  with 
the  same  signs  of  power.  And  yet  with  all 
this  were  the  tokens  and  the  signs  oC  tender- 
ness and  sympathy. 

Jesus  was  poor,  yet  made  many  rich.     He 


SERMONS 


had  nothing,  and  yet  was  heir  of  all  things. 
He  received  nothing,  yet  gave  gifts  to  men. 
The  heritage  he  won  for  himself,  he  won  for  all 
men. 

"When  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem,"  devo- 
tion received  a  new  sanction.  Then,  as  ever 
since,  devout  hearts  knew  him.  They  who  seek 
God  are  always  drawn  to  Jesus.  They  who 
trust  God  believe  in  Him.  Simeon  only  saw 
him  and  he  knew  him.  Devout  hearts  needed 
only  to  see  him.  Put  Jesus  before  them  and 
they  recognize  the  features.  He  is  what  they 
are  looking  for.  He  presents  to  them  what 
they  are  struggling  to  attain.  You  have  often 
had  the  hazy  image  of  an  idea  in  your  mind, 
but  could  not  give  it  form.  Some  one  else  has 
expressed  the  thought,  and  your  own  mind 
was  clarified.  The  hazy  shadow  takes  form 
in  our  thought  when  another  gives  utterance. 
In  their  light  we  see  light. 

When  we  see  Jesus  it  seems  as  if  we  had 
always  known  him.  We  had  been  struggling 
for  such  a  conception,  but  never  seized  it. 
But  looking  at  him  our  shadowy  images  take 
form,  and  our  fragmentary  thoughts  find  a 
content.  He  is  the  substance  of  our  best 
hopes,  the  reality  of  our  best  ideals.  To  all 
sincere  seekers,  Jesus  is  his  own  witness.  He 
bears  his  own  credentials  in  voice  and  step.     If 


10  SERMONS 


the  historic  testimony  should  be  lost,  and 
Jesus  should  stand,  without  date  or  location 
or  historic  environment,  he  would  still  approve 
himself  to  men  for  all  he  claims  to  be.  Devout 
souls  would  still  receive  him.  As  he  came  into 
the  temple  of  their  lives,  though  they  knew 
not  whence,  nor  by  whom,  they  could  bless 
God  for  the  sight.  Not  every  one  can  trace 
the  line  of  historic  connection.  But  all  can 
understand  him  as  he  stands  before  them. 
No  matter  when — no  matter  whence — no  mat- 
ter how — he  is  his  own  best  evidence,  and  his 
own  best  exposition.  Simeon  knew  not  who 
he  was,  nor  whence  he  came,  and  yet  he  knew 
him  as  he  entered  the  temple.  The  whence, 
and  the  when  and  the  where  may  be  mysteries, 
but  the  personality  may  be  plain. 

"When  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem,"  the 
sages  were  aware  of  his  coming.  Jesus  ap- 
pealed to  the  learning  of  the  world,  as  well  as 
to  its  devotion.  He  has  ever  satisfied  the  intel- 
ligence of  men.  Other  faiths  have  faded  in 
the  dawn  of  intelligence.  The  religion  of 
Jesus  is  intelligible  to  the  simple,  and  yet  sat- 
isfies the  intelligent.  The  larger  the  light, 
the  brighter  it  shines.  No  intensity  of  light 
has  shown  defects  in  Jesus.  He  seems  the 
more  perfect  the  more  clearly  we  see  him. 
Advancing  civilization  does  not  pass  beyond 


SERMONS  II 


him.  Enlarging  knowledge  does  not  outgrow 
him.  Progressive  study  does  not  leave  him 
behind.  He  is  always  abreast  of  the  best 
thought.  The  highest  ideal  of  personal  duty 
will  find  itself  foreshadowed  by  him.  The 
highest  conception  of  social  order  will  still 
look  to  him  for  its  model. 

Thus  the  coming  of  Jesus  appealed  to  these 
three  classes:  the  shepherds  and  the  prophets 
and  the  sages.  It  appealed  to  the  poor,  the 
pious  and  the  intelligent;  to  them  that  toiled, 
to  them  that  prayed,  to  them  that  thought. 
It  has  come  down  the  centuries  with  the  same 
appeal.  These  may  represent  the  three  classes 
of  men.  In  all  the  centuries  Christ  has  ful- 
filled the  intimation  of  his  childhood. 

He  appeals  to  us  in  the  same  way.  He  ap- 
peals first  to  our  intelligence.  He  himself  is 
beyond  question.  Cut  him  adrift  from  all 
historic  connection,  and  he  justifies  himself 
to  the  intelligence  of  men.  Your  study  of  the 
stars,  and  your  study  of  the  earth,  and  your 
study  of  men,  lead  you  to  him.  Every  human 
condition  needs  him;  every  human  problem 
calls  for  him.  Your  thinking  will  be  without 
a  center  if  you  think  without  him.  Human 
society  will  be  "a.  muddle"  if  God  be  not 
in  the  center.  And  your  devout  instincts 
need  him.     For  you  have  devout  instincts  even 


12  SERMONS 


if  you  are  not  devout.  There  Is  a  prophet  in 
your  soul  whether  you  let  him  speak  or  not. 
There  is  a  prophet  in  every  man's  soul.  The 
prophet  within  you  will  know  Jesus  when  he 
comes  into  the  temple  of  your  thought.  When 
your  intelligence  finds  him,  the  prophet  within 
you  will  know  him. 

When  your  intelligence  finds  him,  and  your 
soul  shall  receive  him,  then  your  hands  shall 
serve  him.  Intelligence  and  devotion  and  labor 
serve  him.  Intelligence  and  devotion  and 
labor  shall  join  in  serving  him  who  came  from 
God.  The  three  classes  which  recognized 
Jesus  when  he  was  born  in  Bethlehem, — the 
sages  with  their  wisdom,  the  Simeons  with 
their  devotion,  and  the  shepherds  with  their 
labor — shall  find  a  parallel  in  your  life.  Intel- 
ligence shall  find  the  Lord,  devotion  shall  ac- 
cept him  and  labor  shall  serve  him.  The 
day  when  Jesus  was  born  in  Bethlehem  shall 
be  eclipsed  by  the  day  when  Jesus  is  born  in 
your  life.  For  the  scene  in  Bethlehem  is 
nothing  to  you  till  you  have  made  it  your  own. 
The  world's  Christmas  was  when  Jesus  was 
born  in  Bethlehem,  but  your  Christmas  will 
be  when  Jesus  shall  come  into  your  life.  Then 
you  with  the  sages  shall  find  him;  with  the 
prophets  you  shall  receive  him,  and  with  the 
shepherds  you  shall  serve  him. 


II 

"come  unto  me" 

Matt.  2:  28 

OOME  one  has  said  that  these  three  words 
^^  more  nearly  express  the  attitude  of  Jesus 
to  mankind  than  any  words  that  could  be 
chosen.  It  is  the  attitude  of  invitation — which 
is  the  permanent  attitude  of  Jesus.  He  knew 
he  had  something  to  give  men,  and  wanted 
them  to  come  and  get  it.  He  knew  he  could  do 
something  for  men,  and  he  wanted  them  to 
come  and  receive  it.  He  could  not  look  upon 
a  multitude  but  he  was  moved  with  compas- 
sion. He  could  never  see  people  about  him 
but  he  felt  impelled  to  teach  them.  He  could 
never  see  people  in  want  or  in  trouble  but  he 
was  impelled  to  help  them.  Thus  he  bore 
himself  through  all  his  earthly  life. 

But  Jesus  came  from  God.  He  was  the 
Word,  which  was  with  God  in  the  beginning. 
He  expressed  God  to  men.  He  was  in  time 
what  he  was  in  Eternity.  God's  eternal 
thought  was  vocalized  in  the  life  of  Jesus 
Christ.  God  makes  himself  known  in  a  great 
many  ways.  He  makes  known  his  power  and 
wisdom  in  his  works.     He  makes  known  his 

13 


14  SERMONS 


law  in  the  human  conscience.  He  makes 
known  his  sovereignty  and  providence  in 
history  and  life.  But  Jesus  Christ  is  the  final 
and  full  expression.  "Here  the  whole  Deity 
is  known.  We  see  God  in  the  face  of  Jesus 
Christ." 

And  Jesus  spoke  for  all  the  ages.  It  is  quite 
remarkable  that  so  few  of  the  teachings  of  Jesus 
are  local  and  temporary.  The  truths  he  taught 
are  of  universal  application.  What  Jesus  said 
of  God  is  forever  and  everywhere  true.  God 
is  now  and  forever  what  he  seems  in  Jesus 
Christ.  The  attitude  of  Jesus  is  the  attitude 
of  the  eternal  throne.  Whenever  a  man  comes 
to  God  he  can  expect  to  be  met  in  the  spirit  of 
Jesus  Christ. 

"The  homage  that  we  render  thee 
Is  still  our  Father's  own; 
No  jealous  claim  or  rivalry 

Divides  the  Cross  and  Throne." 

God's  attitude  is  forever  the  inviting  atti- 
tude; and  God's  voice  is  forever  saying,  "Come 
unto  me." 

And  God  calls  us  because  he  wants  us;  he 
wants  our  lives;  he  wants  our  love;  he  wants 
our  service. 

First  of  all:  Christ  wants  us  ourselves.  There 
are  some  things  to  which  a  man  gives  a  spec- 
ified  service,   and   there   are  other   things  to 


SERMONS  15 


which  he  gives  himself.  A  man  gives  his  em- 
ployer a  specified  number  of  hours.  He  gives 
his  teacher  a  fair  knowledge  of  certain  les- 
sons. He  owes  his  friends  certain  social  obli- 
gations. In  many  directions  he  has  limited 
responsibilities.  But  to  his  home  he  gives 
himself.  He  does  not  give  sections  of  himself 
to  the  things  he  loves.  If  his  child  be  sick  he 
will  sit  by  its  bedside  day  and  night,  and  his 
last  dollar  and  the  last  dollar  he  can  get  is  at 
its  service.  It  is  not,  "I  will  give  two  hours 
a  day,  or  so  much  a  week,"  but,  "all  I  have, 
and  all  I  can  do."  All  he  is  and  all  he  has  are 
on  demand  that  his  child  may  be  restored. 
There  is  no  measure  and  no  limit,  except  the 
measure  and  limit  of  ability.  This  is  what  it 
means  to  give  one's  self.  This  is  the  measure 
of  all  the  highest  obligations.  And  this  is  the 
spirit  of  all  the  best  service,  of  all  service  that 
is  trust- worthy  and  reliable.  In  some  such 
sense  Christ  wants  you.  It  is  not  a  section 
of  your  personality,  or  of  your  time,  or  of  your 
means,  but  he  wants  you  yourself,  with  all 
which  that  implies. 

And  as  Paul  says,  "This  is  your  reasonable 
service."  It  is  reasonable  you  should  give 
yourself  to  your  home,  for  your  life  is  wrapped 
up  in  your  home.  It  is  reasonable  you  should 
give  yourself  to  your  country,  for  your  country 


1 6  SERMONS 


has  in  its  keeping  all  that  you  have  and  are. 
And  it  is  reasonable  you  should  give  yourself 
to  God,  for  God  is  the  giver  of  all  you  have  and 
the  foundation  of  all  you  hope  for.  This  con- 
secration does  not  determine  what  you  shall 
do,  but  it  determines  the  spirit  of  whatever 
you  may  do.  You  may  serve  your  home  in 
any  one  of  a  thousand  different  employments, 
but  you  are  at  its  call  for  anything  it  may  need. 
You  may  serve  your  country  by  being  a  good 
citizen,  and  attending  steadily  to  the  work  you 
are  engaged  in,  but  you  are  at  her  call  for  spe- 
cial service  whenever  she  may  need  you.  You 
may  be  called  upon  to  serve  on  the  jury,  to 
serve  as  special  police  in  case  of  disturbance, 
or  to  go  abroad  as  a  soldier  in  case  she  is 
threatened  by  foreign  foes.  You  may  serve 
God  in  your  home  and  in  your  daily  calling, 
but  you  are  at  the  call  of  God  to  serve  him  in 
whatever  line  his  providence  may  lead  you. 
His  claims  are  higher  than  the  claims  of  coun- 
try, for  he  made  your  country  all  it  is.  His 
claims  are  higher  than  the  claims  of  home. 
God's  gifts  and  God's  care  have  made  home 
possible  to  you.  He  wants  you  with  all  you 
have  and  all  you  are.  He  wants  you  with  your 
country,  that  you  may  serve  your  country  in 
his  name.  He  wants  you  with  your  home,  that 
your  home  may  itself  belong  to  God  and  be  a 


SERMONS  17 


Christian  home.  And  if  God  calls  you  to  any 
special  service  you  will  have  but  one  answer: 
"Here  I  am,  Lord.  Send  me."  There  is  evi- 
dence that  Christ  called  the  apostles  to  dis- 
cipleship  before  he  called  them  to  apostleship. 
He  called  them  into  his  kingdom  before  he 
sent  them  out  into  his  service.  He  wanted 
them  first,  and  then  he  wanted  whatever  service 
they  might  be  able  to  do.  He  called  them  to 
salvation,  and  he  then  appointed  them  to  apos- 
tleship. He  would  first  win  a  man  to  the  truth, 
and  then  make  him  a  messenger  of  the  truth. 
Whatever  Christ  would  have  a  man  do,  he 
wants  the  man  himself  first  of  all.  Loyalty 
to  Christ  is  the  preliminary  of  all  service.  And 
loyalty  to  Christ  makes  all  service  acceptable 
and  honorable.  Personal  loyalty  consecrates 
all  that  a  man  puts  his  hands  to.  If  I  am 
Christ's,  then  all  I  have  is  his  possession,  and 
all  I  do  is  a  part  of  his  service. 

Second:  Christ  wants  all  we  can  make  of 
ourselves.  The  Christian  life  is  not  a  repres- 
sion but  an  inspiration.  It  is  a  new  force  in  a 
man's  life.  Jesus  kept  his  disciples  with  him 
three  years,  and  never  did  three  years  so  enlarge 
and  transform  men.  That  was  a  rare  school 
those  men  attended  the  three  years  he  remained 
on  earth.  It  transformed  the  clumsy,  un- 
taught fishermen  of  Galilee  into  the  able  and 


SERMONS 


dignified  advocates  of  the  Gospel  before  whom 
the  people  trembled  at  Pentecost.  The  men 
who  seemed  so  helpless  and  dependent  when 
he  took  them,  became  the  competent  and  fear- 
less leaders  of  the  Christian  hosts  when  he  left 
them.  Never  was  there  such  a  difference  be- 
tween the  entrance  and  the  graduation.  He 
knew  the  men  he  chose,  the  material  of  which 
they  were  made.  And  he  knew  how  to  draw 
out  the  best  that  was  in  them  and  to  make  the 
most  of  all  the  gifts  they  had  received.  As  he 
called  them  in  their  simplicity,  they  served  him 
with  their  enlarged  powers.  He  first  of  all 
called  them,  and  then  he  claimed  all  he  had 
made  of  them.  In  like  manner  he  wants  you, 
and  he  wants  all  you  can  make  of  yourselves. 
The  man  who  brought  his  talent,  and  returned 
it  to  his  lord  and  said :  " Lo!  here  is  thy  talent; 
take  that  is  thine,"  received  no  commendation. 
All  the  gifts  of  God  are  a  trust,  and  God  expects 
them  to  be  increased  as  well  as  used.  We  must 
improve  them  as  well  as  employ  them.  In  fact 
we  improve  them  when  we  employ  them.  And 
they  never  improve  so  fast  as  when  they  are 
most  employed.  Every  man  is  to  use  his 
gifts  for  service,  and  also  for  increase. 

And  this  does  not  apply  simply  to  what  is 
technically  considered  the  season  of  growth. 
It  applies  no  more  to  school  than  to  home;  no 


SERMONS  19 


more  to  college  than  to  business.  For  a  man's 
growth  is  not  all  made  in  youth  and  his  educa- 
tion is  not  all  acquired  in  school.  The  soldier 
does  not  get  all  his  military  training  in  the 
academy;  the  lawyer  does  not  gain  all  his 
acumen  in  the  law  school;  and  the  minister 
does  not  get  all  his  theology  in  the  theological 
seminary.  There  have  been  good  soldiers  who 
never  saw  West  Point.  And  there  have  been 
scholarly  and  effective  men  who  never  saw  a 
university.  And  this  is  not  said  to  the  dis- 
credit of  West  Point  or  of  the  university.  But 
it  is  simply  to  show  that  there  are  other  roads 
to  manhood  besides  the  beaten  track.  A  man 
has  more  schoolmasters  than  he  knows,  and 
he  has  more  lessons  than  he  recognizes,  and  he 
pays  more  tuition  bills  than  he  thinks.  Every 
one  we  have  anything  to  do  with  is  a  teacher 
to  us,  everything  that  happens  to  us  has  a 
lesson  in  it.  Everything  that  happens  to  us 
helps  to  make  us.  How  it  makes  us,  depends  on 
how  w^e  hold  ourselves  to  it,  just  as  other  schools 
depend  on  the  attention  more  than  on  their  own 
efficiency.  They  are  effective  as  we  make  them 
so,  and  they  mold  us  as  we  hold  ourselves  to 
them. 

"We  are  building  every  day, 
In  a  good  or  evil  way; 
And  the  structure  as  it  grows 
Will  our  inmost  selves  disclose. 


20  SERMONS 


"Till  in  every  arch  and  line 

All  our  faults  and  failings  shine; 
It  may  grow  a  castle  grand, 
Or  a  wreck  upon  the  sand. 

"Build  it  well,  whate'er  you  do; 

Build  it  straight  and  strong  and  true, 
Build  it  clean  and  high  and  broad; 
Build  it  for  the  eye  of  God." 

The  bee  does  not  gather  all  her  honey  from 
the  walled  garden,  nor  from  the  field  sown  for 
her,  but  she  finds  many  a  flower  with  choicest 
sweet  in  the  wild  wood,  and  in  the  open  field. 

"She  gathers  honey,  all  the  day 
From  every  opening  flower." 

We  find  many  delightful  people  who  have 
not  had  what  people  call  the  best  advantages, 
either  of  school  or  of  society.  They  just  drank 
in  the  sunshine  as  they  came  along,  and  gath- 
ered the  sweets  from  every  flower  on  their  way. 
It  is  not  the  fault  of  the  schools,  but  biggest 
dunces  often  come  from  the  best  schools;  it  is 
not  the  fault  of  the  social  order,  but  the  most 
ill-mannered  men  you  find  will  be  those  who 
know  the  customs  and  rules  of  the  best  society, 
and  who  scrupulously  observe  them,  too.  No 
man  can  be  so  cuttingly  insolent  as  he  who 
knows  how  to  polish  the  shaft  he  shoots,  A 
man's  learning  is  not  in  proportion  to  his 
schools,  nor  is  his  politeness  in  proportion  to 


SERMONS  21 


his  social  advantages.  Our  schools  are  the 
glory  of  our  age,  and  the  hope  of  our  future. 
But  there  are  limitations  to  what  they  can  do, 
and  there  are  things  they  need  never  attempt 
to  do.  A  college  diploma  is  not  a  guaranty 
of  scholarship,  any  more  than  a  church  letter 
is  a  guaranty  of  sainthood.  A  college  diploma 
often  covers  a  lazy  record,  and  a  limping  course. 
Often  they  come  to  us  in  sheep's-skin  clothing, 
but  inwardly  they  are  simpering  fools.  It  is 
not  the  fault  of  the  schools,  but  it  shows  their 
limitations.  There  are  no  schools  to  the  best 
things.  We  have  schools  of  art  which  do 
grand  work;  but  no  school  of  art  has  ever  had 
the  temerity  to  advertise  that  it  turned  out 
artists.  They  turn  out  copyists  and  critics 
and  teachers  of  art,  but  not  artists.  There 
are  schools  of  elocution,  but  they  do  not  even 
pretend  to  turn  out  orators.  That  is  as  much 
above  their  might  as  Burns  found  certain 
things  above  the  might  of  kings. 

"A  king  can  mak'  a  belted  Knight, 
A  Marquis,  Duke  and  a'  that; 
An  honest  man's  above  his  might, 
A  man's  a  man  for  a'  that." 

So  it  is  true  of  artists  and  orators,  as  it  is  of 
poets,  "They  are  born  and  not  made."  And 
when  God  makes  one  he  will  open  a  door  for 
him  somewhere.     They  say  there  are  no  poets 


22  SERMONS 


now  as  there  were  a  generation  ago.  But  the 
same  was  said  in  the  days  of  Tennyson  and 
Longfellow.  We  used  to  see  the  statement 
quite  frequently,  that,  "We  have  no  such 
poets  now  as  Burns  and  Byron."  Then  they 
would  name  Tennyson  and  Longfellow  as  our 
best.  Of  course  there  are  no  such  poets  now 
as  in  a  former  age;  but  there  may  be  poets  just 
as  good,  but  of  a  different  type.  The  genius 
of  one  age  will  not  express  itself  in  the  terms  of 
another.  The  poets  of  one  age  will  not  be 
like  the  poets  of  another.  Homer's  Iliad  could 
not  have  been  written  in  the  Christian  Era. 
Milton's  Paradise  Lost  could  not  have  been 
written  in  the  nineteenth  century.  But  if 
God  should  send  a  genius  like  Homer  to  this 
generation,  he  would  express  himself  in  such 
different  speech  and  in  such  different  form  from 
the  blind  Homer  of  three  thousand  years  ago 
that  we  might  never  think  to  compare  them, 
so  diverse  would  they  be.  If  God  should  send 
another  Milton  to  the  twentieth  century,  he 
would  speak  in  the  tongue  of  the  twentieth 
century,  and  men  might  never  think  of  Milton 
when  they  were  reading  him.  They  might 
still  go  on  murmuring:  "There  are  no  Miltons 
in  this  matter  of  fact  generation,  in  this  twen- 
tieth century,  as  there  were  in  the  seven- 
teenth."    But  if  God  ever  sends  the  world  a 


SERMONS  23 


poet,  the  poet  will  find  the  door  to  the  world's 
heart,  and  he  will  find  the  key  to  the  world's 
speech. 

But  I  have  been  drawn  away  from  my 
thought,  and  yet  perhaps  not  so  far  away  as  it 
seems.  I  was  saying:  God  wants  all  a  man  is, 
and  all  he  can  make  of  himself.  And  what  he 
can  make  of  himself  does  nor  depend  on  his 
opportunities  so  much  as  on  his  use  of  them. 
All  that  happens  to  him  helps  to  make  him. 
Every  event  in  his  life  is  a  lesson  if  he  will 
only  learn  it.  Every  friend  is  a  teacher  though 
he  hold  no  certificate.  Every  enemy  is  a 
teacher,  too,  if  the  man  be  only  wise  enough  to 
learn.  Good  fortune  may  teach  a  man,  and 
ill  fortune  none  the  less.  Joy  is  a  teacher,  and 
so  is  sorrow;  we  learn  from  laughter,  and  not 
the  less  from  tears.  Everything  speaks  to 
him  who  has  ears  to  hear;  everything  sings  to 
him  who  has  music  in  his  soul;  everything 
teaches  him  who  has  the  spirit  of  a  scholar. 
The  whole  world  is  a  book  to  him  who  can 
turn  its  pages.  Humanity  is  a  library  to  him 
who  knows  how  to  draw  its  volumes.  Or  a 
man  may  go  away  empty  from  the  grandest 
lessons  that  are  ever  given.  One  of  the  dullest 
men  I  ever  spent  an  evening  with  had  travelled 
round  the  world  under  the  best  guides  that 
could  be  given  him.     And  I  have  been  charmed 


24  SERMONS 


many  a  time  by  men  who  had  seen  little 
beyond  their  own  neighborhood.  It  is  true 
now  as  in  the  days  of  Jesus:  "Men  see  with 
their  eyes,  and  hear  with  their  ears;  and  under- 
stand with  their  heart."  It  is  not  the  sights 
or  the  sounds,  or  the  truth ;  it  is  the  eye  and  the 
ear  and  the  heart.  The  heart  that  is  on  the 
alert  "Finds  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the 
running  brooks;  sermons  in  stones  and  good 
in  everything." 

Christ  wants  you,  and  he  wants  all  you  are. 
He  wants  you,  and  he  wants  all  you  can  make 
of  yourself.  He  called  his  disciples  for  what 
they  were;  he  kept  them  with  him  until  he 
made  them  what  he  wanted  them  to  be.  He 
calls  us  all  as  we  are,  and  then  if  we  follow 
where  he  leads,  he  will  make  us  what  he  wants 
us  to  be.  Jesus  called  his  disciples  one  by  one, 
and  calls  all  men  into  his  service.  It  was, 
"Matthew,  follow  me";  or  it  was,  "John, 
James,  Peter,  follow  me."  He  spoke  to  them, 
one  by  one.  He  also  said,  "Come  unto  me  all 
ye  that  labor."  "If  any  man  thirst,  let  him 
come  to  me  and  drink."  In  the  prophetic 
forecast  it  was  said,  "Ho !  every  one  that  thirst- 
eth."  It  is  the  same  today.  God's  universal 
call  may  be  heard  of  any  man  who  will  listen. 
Every  man  knows  God  has  a  right  to  him. 
Every  man  knows  God  wants  him.     Every 


SERMONS  25 


man  knows  God  needs  him.  This  general 
call  is  not  audible,  but  it  is  as  plain  as  if  it  were. 
It  speaks  in  conscience,  in  Providence,  and  in 
the  gentler  influences  of  divine  grace. 

But  the  call  of  God  is  personal  as  well  as 
general.  God  speaks  to  men  one  by  one  now 
as  he  did  of  old.  You  all  know  the  general 
truth  that  God  has  a  right  to  you,  that  he 
needs  you,  and  that  he  wants  you.  This  is 
the  substance  of  his  general  call.  And  you 
have  all  felt  at  times  a  more  personal  sense 
of  God's  claim.  The  general  sense  of  truth 
has  become  a  personal  conviction.  It  has 
taken  a  personal  form,  and  you  have  said  in 
your  own  heart,  "I  ought  to  give  myself  to 
God,  and  yield  myself  to  his  service."  The 
general  call  of  God  became  focussed  in  your 
own  heart. 

Christ  now  calls  for  you — for  all  you  are — for 
all  you  can  make  of  yourself.  He  calls  for  you 
— not  for  a  tribute  from  your  estate — not  for  a 
portion  of  your  time — not  for  a  fragment  of 
your  strength.  But  he  wants  you  yourself. 
He  does  not  want  the  fag-ends  of  your  life,  or 
what  there  is  left  when  you  have  served  your- 
self; but  he  wants  your  life  itself,  with  all  its 
vigor  and  force,  with  all  its  purpose  and  power. 
Every  man  had  his  own  call,  and  ever}^  man 
is  called  in  his  own  way;  but  when  God  does 


26  SERMONS 


call  a  man  he  calls  him  for  the  man  himself,  and 
when  the  man  responds  to  God  he  brings  his 
life  with  him. 

And  God  does  not  call  all  men  to  the  same 
work  any  more  than  he  calls  all  men  in  the 
same  way.  He  calls  one  man  to  go  across  the 
seas  to  preach  Jesus,  and  he  calls  another  man 
to  stay  at  home  and  live  Jesus.  And  it  often 
happens  that  he  who  stays  at  home  has  the 
harder  mission.  It  is  sometimes  harder  to  live 
Jesus  than  it  is  to  preach  him.  And  the  most 
effective  way  of  presenting  Jesus  is  to  embody 
him  in  our  life.  And  each  man  must  hear  his 
own  call,  and  each  man  must  obey  his  own 
orders.  One  man  cannot  hear  for  another, 
and  one  man  cannot  answer  for  another.  One 
man  cannot  fill  another's  place,  and  one  man 
cannot  do  another's  work.  God  wants  of  each 
man  the  service  for  which  he  made  him,  and 
the  service  to  which  he  calls  him. 

First  of  all  then,  God  wants  you  that  he 
may  do  something  for  you.  He  can  enlarge 
and  inspire  your  life.  He  wants  you  also  that 
you  may  do  something  for  him.  First  he  calls 
you  for  salvation,  and  then  he  calls  you  to 
service.  First  come  and  receive  a  blessing, 
then  go  forth  and  be  a  blessing. 


Ill 


WHICH    OF    YOU,     BY    TAKING    THOUGHT,    CAN 
ADD  ONE  CUBIT  TO  HIS  STATURE?" 
Matt.  6:  27 

T  KNEW  a  man  years  ago,  who  was  a  loyal 
''■  supporter  of  his  church  and  a  firm  behever 
in  its  doctrines,  but  who  never  would  become 
a  member  of  the  church.  He  was  a  regular 
attendant  and  a  loyal  supporter.  He  believed 
in  the  church,  and  believed  in  the  work  it 
was  doing.  He  was  a  well-educated  man, 
well-informed  by  large  reading  and  wide  travel. 
In  talking  with  him  of  the  matter  one  day,  I 
asked  him  why  he  was  not  a  member  of  the 
church  he  believed  in  so  heartily,  and  sup- 
ported so  loyally.  He  believed  in  God,  he 
believed  in  the  church  and  he  believed  in  all 
the  Christian  doctrines.  Why  did  he  not  do 
as  he  believed?  He  replied,  that  it  was  be- 
cause he  believed  the  doctrines  of  his  church 
that  he  was  not  a  church  member,  and  did  not 
claim  to  be  a  Christian.  According  to  the 
doctrine  of  his  church,  the  matter  of  his  con- 
version and  salvation  was  entirely  in  the  hands 
of  God.  "God  made  me,  and  God  put  me 
here.     I  am  just  what  he  made  me,  and  just 

27 


28  SERMONS 


where  he  put  me.  If  God  intends  to  save  me 
he  will  do  so;  if  he  don't,  he  won't.  That  is 
all  there  is  to  it,  and  that  is  the  end  of  it." 
He  was  thoroughly  fortified  in  his  position, 
and  seemed  thoroughly  satisfied  with  it.  I 
do  not  know  how  much  of  blufif  there  was  in 
it,  but  he  seemed  sincere.  At  all  events  it 
was  impossible  to  move  him  from  it.  It  was 
the  baldest  putting  of  the  case  I  ever  heard. 
I  had  heard  Arminians  in  Methodist  pulpits 
try  to  reduce  Calvinism  to  an  absurdity  in 
some  such  fashion  as  this,  but  never  heard  one 
who  believed  in  the  scheme  who  would  con- 
sent to  such  a  conclusion. 

The  thologlcal  world  has  been  coming  nearer 
together  than  they  were  in  those  days.  The 
man  who  exalts  the  sovereignty  of  God,  and 
calls  himself  a  Calvinist,  and  the  man  who 
exalts  the  freedom  of  man  and  calls  himself  an 
Arminian,  can  fully  agree  the  one  with  the 
other.  As  they  have  come  to  understand  each 
other,  they  have  found  that  they  both  believe 
in  the  sovereignty  of  God,  and  they  both  be- 
lieve in  the  freedom  of  man.  The  two  truths 
have  been  so  conceived  and  so  stated  that  they 
are  seen  to  run  parallel  with  each  other,  and 
not  across  each  other.  Some  make  one  line 
heavier  and  some  the  other.     But  as  the  best 


SERMONS  29 


thinkers  conceive  them  in  this  later  day,  the 
two  lines  of  thought  do  not  conflict. 

The  exaggerated  idea  of  these  doctrines, 
which  this  old  gentleman  has  referred  to,  has 
left  the  church  and  taken  refuge  in  the  schools 
of  philosophy.  It  has  fled  the  lecture-room  of 
the  theological  seminary,  and  taken  refuge  in 
the  lecture-room  of  material  science.  It  is 
known  by  a  different  name,  and  it  is  defined 
in  difi'erent  terms,  but  in  these  material  spec- 
ulations it  appears  in  a  harder  and  more  relent- 
less form  than  it  ever  took  on  in  theological 
discussion.  Native  Depravity  and  Original 
Sin  in  the  church  have  been  supplanted  by 
Heredity  in  the  schools,  and  the  Federal  Head- 
ship of  Adam  in  the  church  has  been  supplanted 
by  the  Solidarity  of  the  Race  in  the  schools. 
The  discarded  fatalism  of  the  religious  world 
has  been  taken  up  by  the  apostles  of  modern 
speculation.  In  the  scheme  of  these  specu- 
lations, the  same  wheels  which  grind  out  the 
physical  events  of  the  earth,  grind  out  also  the 
history  of  nations,  and  the  conduct  and  des- 
tinies of  men.  They  teach  that,  "Mental  and 
moral  traits  depend  on  ancestry,  and  sentiment 
and  character  depend  on  climate  and  food. 
Heredity  determines  a  man's  powers,  and  en- 
vironment determines  his  conditions,  and  the 
two    together   determine    his    character,    and 


30  SERMONS 


shape  his  life  and  destiny."  And  there  is  in 
this  scheme  no  such  relief  as  the  older  Cal- 
vinism gave.  There  are  no  Doctrines  of  Grace, 
no  great  multitude  of  the  elect  to  be  redeemed 
by  the  power  and  Spirit  of  God.  All  men  are 
like  Esau,  they  find  no  place  for  repentance 
though  they  seek  it  carefully  with  tears 

There  is  truth  in  all  these  forms  of  doctrine 
and  speculation.  The  trouble  is  they  are  too 
narrow  to  cover  the  whole  ground.  There  is  a 
great  deal  of  truth  in  the  doctrine  of  heredity, 
but  it  is  not  all  there  is.  There  are  other 
truths  just  as  well  authenticated  with  which 
it  must  be  made  to  harmonize.  There  is  a 
deal  of  truth  in  the  doctrine  of  environment, 
but  it  is  not  all  there  is.  There  is  a  very  close 
relation  between  matter  and  thought,  but 
matter  does  not  account  for  thought.  There 
is  a  very  close  relation  between  heredity  and 
character,  but  character  is  not  inherited. 
There  is  a  very  close  relation  between  environ- 
ment and  destiny.  But  environment  does  not 
control  destiny. 

We  can  all  readily  see  that  material  condi- 
tions have  a  great  deal  to  do  with  mental 
traits,  and  with  moral  results.  But  they  do 
not  explain  mental  action,  nor  account  for 
the  facts  of  conscience  and  character.  We  can 
all  see  that  heredity  has  a  great  deal  to  do 


SERMONS  31 


with  conduct;  but  it  does  not  altogether  ex- 
plain conduct,  or  conscience,  or  conviction. 
A  man's  surroundings  have  a  great  deal  to  do 
with  what  he  is;  but  they  do  not  explain  what 
he  is,  nor  why  he  became  such.  There  are 
things  in  a  man's  life  and  character  which 
heredity  and  environment  do  not  explain. 
We  must  look  for  something  else  as  a  factor 
in  the  common  result. 

There  are  three  elements  which  enter  into 
the  forming  of  character  and  the  shaping  of 
life.  Modern  speculators  admit  two  of  them; 
heredity,  environment;  I  would  add  perso?t- 
ality.  Heredity  is  a  mighty  factor  in  the 
shaping  of  every  man's  life.  He  can  not  be 
any  more  than  he  is,  nor  essentially  different 
from  what  he  is.  As  the  text  says  he  cannot 
add  one  cubit  to  his  stature.  He  cannot 
change  five  feet  six  to  six  feet  five.  He  may 
develop  his  powers  but  it  must  be  essentially 
in  the  lines  and  within  the  limits  of  his  natural 
inheritence.  A  man  with  small,  feeble  body 
may  strengthen  and  enlarge  himself  somewhat, 
but  he  can  hardly  hope  to  become  a  man  of 
massive  and  robust  frame.  A  man  may  im- 
prove his  mental  gifts,  but  if  he  be  wise  he 
will  seek  to  improve  those  he  has  rather  than 
to  create  those  he  has  not.  "  Poeta  nascitur, 
non  fit"  the  old  Latin  used  to  say.     A  poet 


32  SERMONS 


is  born — not  made.  Not  everybody  can  be 
a  poet  or  a  painter  or  a  singer.  Not  every- 
body can  be  a  superior  mechanic  or  a  great 
inventor.  There  is  a  vast  difference  in  the 
amount  of  inherited  skill.  So  there  is  in- 
herited some  of  the  framework  of  character. 
Some  are  quick  and  passionate.  Some  are 
calm  and  patient.  They  may  intensify  or  curb 
these  tendencies  but  they  exist  and  must  be 
recognized.  Each  man  has  his  own  problem 
in  the  shaping  of  his  character.  There  is 
doubtless  a  difference  in  the  purely  moral  ten- 
dencies of  men.  In  some  natures  conscience 
seems  almost  left  out;  while  in  others  it  is 
very  strong.  It  is  almost  morbidly  sensitive 
in  some  natures.  Some  are  naturally  avari- 
cious and  stingy.  Some  seem  to  be  born 
liars;  their  respect  for  truth  is  so  feeble  that 
they  begin  lying  very  early  and  keep  it  up 
very  late.  Then  there  are  kleptomaniacs  or 
born  theives.  This  is  heredity,  and  you  can 
easily  see  how  mighty  a  factor  it  is  in  men's 
lives. 

Another  element  to  be  considered  in  the 
building  of  character  is  what  modern  specula- 
tion calls  environment.  Literally  this  is  what 
lies  round  a  man;  his  surroundings;  his  circum- 
stances. Heredity  and  environment  include 
what  is  born  in  a  man,  and  what  lies  about  a 


SERMONS  33 


man;  the  elements  of  his  nature,  and  the  set- 
ting of  his  Hfe.  The  setting  of  a  man's  Hfe 
has  a  wonderful  influence  in  the  shaping  of 
his  character.  It  is  not  strange  that  to  many 
it  seems  to  be  the  controlling  element.  To  say, 
one  is  born  in  the  heart  of  Christendom  or  in 
the  heart  of  heathendom,  in  a  Christian  home 
or  in  the  slums,  would  almost  seem  to  settle 
the  whole  question  as  to  what  a  man  shall  be. 
And  it  is  the  same  with  heredity.  When  you 
consider  how  differently  men  are  constituted 
it  seems  as  if  that  settles  the  whole  question 
of  their  career.  When  you  consider  how  dif- 
ferently they  are  circumstanced  it  seems  as  if 
that  settled  the  whole  question  of  their  career. 
Put  the  two  together  and  many  men  say  we 
have  all  the  elements  of  the  problem  of  life 
in  these  two  things. 

But  we  have  only  to  look  a  little  closer  to 
see  that  neither  of  these  covers  the  case,  nor 
do  both  of  them  cover  the  case.  They  do  not 
explain  all  the  facts.  They  do  not  explain 
what  every  man  knows  of  himself,  and  they  do 
not  explain  what  every  man  sees  about  him. 
They  leave  no  place  for  conscience,  and  no 
room  for  responsibility.  If  a  man's  nature 
and  setting  control  his  life  then  conscience  is 
a  baseless  dream,  and  obligation  is  an  airy 
fancy.     A  sense  of  injustice  is  itself  unjust, 

3 


34  SERMONS 


and  a  sense  of  guilt  for  one's  own  conduct  is 
absurd,  and  to  blame  another  for  a  wrong  is 
itself  wrong.  Yet  these  are  common  experi- 
ences in  every  heart,  and  no  logic  can  banish 
them  and  no  philosophy  can  explain  them  away. 
We  blame  others  for  the  wrongs  they  do  us ;  we 
blame  ourselves  for  the  wrongs  we  do  them. 
The  pressure  of  obligation  is  on  every  life, 
and  every  one  claims  of  others  the  treatment 
he  counts  due  himself.  These  are  fixed  points 
which  cannot  be  put  away,  and  they  have  a 
significance  which  cannot  be  misread. 

We  come,  therefore,  to  the  third  element  in 
the  forming  of  character  and  the  shaping  of 
life,  which  we  call  personality,  the  man  him- 
self as  a  point  of  power.  Heredity  explains 
a  great  deal;  environment  explains  a  great 
deal;  but  there  will  be  a  great  many  chasms 
to  leap  if  we  do  not  take  into  account  the  per- 
sonality— the  man  himself,  handling  his  powers 
and  shaping  his  circumstances.  A  man  was 
born  on  the  shores  of  the  Aegean  Sea  with  the 
gifts  and  instincts  of  an  orator.  But  a  stam- 
mering tongue  threatened  to  nullify  his  gifts 
and  smother  his  instincts.  But  by  the  force 
of  his  tremendous  will  he  held  himself  to  the 
task  of  overcoming  this  great  obstacle,  and 
the  name  of  Demosthenes  has  been  the  syno- 
nym of  eloquence  for  over  two  thousand  years. 


SERMONS  35 


A  boy  in  school  was  ridiculed  by  his  teacher 
for  his  dulness.  The  reproaches  stung  him 
to  the  quick,  and  he  determined  to  falsify  the 
sneering  predictions  the  teacher  had  uttered. 
The  history  and  life  and  work  of  Sir  Isaac 
Newton  were  the  result  of  that  changed  pur- 
pose. The  gifts  were  there,  the  environment 
was  there,  and  now  the  personality  asserted 
itself.  He  could  not  have  been  what  he  was 
but  for  the  gifts  he  inherited.  He  could  not 
have  done  what  he  did  but  for  the  opportunity 
afforded  him  in  his  surroundings  and  environ- 
ment. But  he  would  not  have  been  what  he 
was  nor  could  he  have  done  what  he  did,  had 
he  not  marshalled  his  gifts  and  seized  the  oc- 
casion and  turned  it  to  account  by  the  aid  of 
his  personality.  It  was  heredity  and  environ- 
ment in  the  hands  of  personality  directed  to  a 
purpose  and  guided  to  a  result.  A  man  can  only 
do  what  the  gifts  of  his  nature  enable  him  to  do, 
but  he  can  frustrate  the  gifts  or  he  can  enlarge 
and  quicken  them.  A  man  can  seize  the  op- 
portunity offered  to  him,  or  he  can  let  it  pass 
him.  He  can  enter  the  open  door,  or  he  can 
loiter  till  it  be  closed.  If  no  doors  open  he 
cannot  enter,  but  no  matter  how  many  doors 
open,  if  he  will  not  enter.  And  doors  will 
always  open  to  a  man  if  he  only  wait  and  watch. 
It  is  quite  common  for  men   to  adopt  a 


36  SERMONS 


conclusion  broader  than  their  premise.  When 
a  man  has  shown  you  how  potent  heredity  is 
in  shaping  character  and  life,  he  often  assumes 
that  he  has  settled  the  whole  question.  When 
he  has  shown  that  a  criminal  inherited  his 
evil  drift  from  his  ancestors,  he  assumes  that 
that  ends  all  controversy.  It  is  all  charge- 
able to  heredity.  The  man  must  not  be 
blamed  for  what  his  father  was,  nor  for  what 
his  father  did.  It  is  a  misfortune  and  not  a 
crime,  he  tells  you.  We  may  readily  concede 
that  the  man  is  not  to  blame  for  the  drift  he 
inherited  from  his  father.  But  the  drift  he 
inherited  was  not  the  crime  he  committed. 
It  was  yielding  to  the  drift  which  constituted 
the  crime.  It  did  not  become  a  crime  till 
personality  took  hold  of  the  inherited  drift 
and  gave  it  effect  in  deed. 

When  the  Keely  Cure  was  at  its  height  of 
popularity,  one  of  our  newspapers  said:  "If 
this  cure  prove  all  that  is  claimed  for  it,  it 
will  change  the  whole  aspect  of  the  temperance 
question.  If  it  should  be  shown  that  intemper- 
ance is  not  a  crime  but  a  disease,  then  the 
preacher  must  go  out  and  the  doctor  must 
come  in.  The  temperance  lecturer  and  the 
temperance  paper  must  be  set  aside,  and  med- 
ical treatment  must  take  their  place.     Instead 


SERMONS  37 


of  giving  the  drunkard  temperance  tracts,  you 
will  give  him  Chloride  of  Gold." 

All  this  sounds  very  plausible,  but  is  very 
narrow.  It  only  sees  one  side  of  the  truth, 
and  makes  that  stand  for  the  whole.  It  is 
no  new  thing  that  drunkenness  is  a  disease. 
Temperance  lecturers  have  long  made  this  one 
of  the  chief  indictments  against  the  liquor 
habit.  Its  great  peril  was  that  it  did  create 
a  disease  which  was  beyond  a  man's  control. 
They  have  always  insisted  that  alcohol  pro- 
duced a  diseased  condition  of  the  system, 
which  craved  indulgence,  and  made  escape 
from  the  habit  more  and  more  difficult.  But 
the  craving  did  not  indulge  itself.  Sometimes 
a  man  inherits  the  condition  from  his  drunken 
father.  But  he  does  not  get  drunk  on  the 
whiskey  his  father  drank.  He  may  crave 
whiskey  because  his  father  drank  w^hiskey. 
But  he  need  not  drink  it  unless  he  choose. 
And  it  will  be  true  of  him,  as  has  often  been 
said  of  others,  "Whiskey  will  not  hurt  you, 
if  you  let  it  alone."  The  craving  is  a  mis- 
fortune; the  yielding  to  it  is  the  crime.  Being 
a  disease  does  not  prevent  its  being  a  crime. 
It  may  be  all  the  more  a  crime  because  it  is  a 
disease.  If  alcohol  produces  a  disease,  then  it 
is  a  very  seirous  crime  to  indulge  in  its  use. 
When  we  are  asked:  "Is  intemperance  a  dis- 


38  SERMONS 


ease  or  a  crime?"  We  answer,  "Both."  So 
far  as  the  inflamed  condition  of  the  system 
is  concerned,  it  is  a  disease;  so  far  as  it  is  a 
man's  assent  to  this  craving,  it  is  a  crime.  It 
is  a  crime  for  a  man  to  indulge  in  that  which 
produces  a  diseased  condition,  and  tends  to 
fasten  itself  upon  a  man's  life. 

In  a  sense  all  sin  is  disease.  The  disease 
is  the  evil  tendency  which  prompts  to  evil. 
The  sin  is  obeying  this  evil  tendency  in  evil 
conduct.  The  evil  tendencies  may  be  born 
in  us — some  stronger — some  weaker.  It  is 
when  one  listens  to  the  promptings  of  evil 
that  he  becomes  guilty  of  sin.  It  is  the  con- 
sent of  the  personality  that  constitutes  the 
sin.  The  battle  of  our  life  is  to  overcome  the 
evil  promptings  of  our  nature,  and  the  evil 
allurements  of  our  environment.  "Let  no 
man  say  when  he  is  tempted,  I  am  tempted 
of  God.  For  God  cannot  be  tempted  of  evil, 
neither  tempteth  he  any  man.  But  every 
man  is  tempted  when  he  is  drawn  away  of 
his  own  lusts  and  enticed.  Then  lust  when  it 
is  conceived,  bringeth  forth  sin,  and  sin  when 
it  is  finished,  bringeth  forth  death."  It  is  no 
holiday  contest,  this  contest  of  the  soul  for 
its  own  deliverance.  But  it  is  a  contest  in 
which  every  man  must  engage,  and  in  which 
every  man  may  win.     Here  are  the  powers  and 


SERMONS  39 


faculties  God  has  given  you  as  your  inheritance. 
Here  are  the  opportunities  and  openings  he  has 
placed  before  you.  What  is  to  come  of  it  all 
is  the  question  your  personality  has  to  settle. 
In  the  problem  of  life,  personality  is  the  lead- 
ing factor.  It  cannot  change  the  inheritance 
of  nature,  but  it  can  turn  that  inheritance  to 
account.  It  cannot  add  one  cubit  to  your 
stature,  or  one  inch  to  your  height.  But  it 
can  make  you  every  inch  a  man,  and  every 
inch  a  Christian.  It  cannot  choose  the  environ- 
ments of  your  life,  but  it  can  enter  openings 
that  appear,  and  it  can  make  the  most  of  the 
opportunities  that  offer. 

Personality  has  done  wonders  with  both 
heredity  and  environment.  It  has  made  mod- 
erate gifts  accomplish  marvelous  things.  Men 
have  taken  their  moderate  gifts,  and  by  per- 
sistent and  faithful  application,  have  put  to 
shame  the  splendidly  equipped,  who  have  in- 
dolently frittered  away  their  patrimony.  Out 
of  the  most  untoward  surroundings  it  has  often 
found  its  way  to  the  grandest  attainments. 
The  boy  from  the  log  cabin  has  beaten  the 
boy  from  the  palace.  The  barefooted  boy 
has  outstripped  the  boy  of  pampered  indul- 
gence. The  plodder  has  outstripped  the  genius. 
The  tortoise  has  passed  the  hare.  Whether 
a   man   be    largely   endowed,    or   moderately 


40  SERMONS 


endowed,  his  success  will  depend  on  the  use 
he  makes  of  what  God  has  given  him. 

And  a  man  never  works  alone.  To  every 
soul  struggling  for  the  mastery  there  is  prom- 
ised, and  there  is  given,  the  all-conquering 
grace  of  God.  God  is  forever  on  the  side  of 
struggling  souls.  Against  whatever  odds  of 
inheritance  or  of  surroundings  a  man  may  con- 
tend, the  grace  of  God  is  the  assurance  of  vic- 
tory. "Who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body 
of  this  death?"  said  the  apostle,  as  he  reviewed 
the  long  and  varying  struggle.  "  I  thank  God, 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord."  Through 
him  I  shall  gain  the  victory;  through  him  I 
shall  win  the  crown.  To  every  soul  there 
may  come  the  same  assurance.  Whatever 
the  odds  against  you,  his  grace  is  sufficient 
for  you.  You  need  not  count  the  odds  against 
you  when  God  is  on  your  side.  It  is  all  alike 
with  him,  and  you  shall,  "Come  off  conqueror, 
and  more  than  conqueror,  through  him  that 
hath  loved  you." 


IV 


IT  DOTH  NOT  YET  APPEAR  WHAT  WE  SHALL  BE, 
BUT  WHEN  HE  SHALL  APPEAR  WE  SHALL 
BE  LIKE  him" 

I  John  3:  2 

^X^HE  Apostle  here  gives  a  result  and  a  reason 
■*-  for  it.  He  confesses  himself  unable  to 
describe  the  future  form  and  character  of  the 
sons  of  God.  It  was  beyond  the  reach  even  of 
his  comprehension.  He  attempts  no  descrip- 
tion of  what  could  not  be  described.  There  are 
things  which  human  language  cannot  express, 
which  human  thought  cannot  compass,  which 
human  imagination  even  cannot  portray.  There 
are  scenes  in  nature  which  no  painter  can  ade- 
quately represent  or  canvas  contain.  There 
are  ideas  revealed  to  human  thought  and  ex- 
periences revealed  in  human  life,  which  no  man 
can  fully  portray  in  words.  Those  words  best 
represent  them  which  only  point  to  them  and 
leave  them  in  their  indefiniteness  for  the  imagi- 
nation to  fill  out.  The  power  of  Milton  lies 
in  the  undefined  greatness  of  the  wondrous 
images  he  calls  up.  His  grandest  conceptions 
he  never  describes,  but  just  says  enough  to 
turn  your  thought  in  the  direction  of  the  images 

41 


42  SERMONS 


his  own  imagination  sees  and  which  he  wishes 
to  reveal  to  you.  You  doubtless  have  seen 
his  Paradise  Lost  represented  in  panorama.  If 
so,  you  could  not  fail  to  notice  the  difference 
between  the  poet's  image  and  the  painter's 
copy.  Compare,  for  instance,  the  scene  where 
the  Messiah  is  represented  as  coming  in  his 
awful  chariot,  with  his  terrible  right  hand 
hurling  thunderbolts  into  the  ranks  of  his 
discomfited  foes,  and  driving  them  howling 
over  the  walls  of  Heaven  into  the  boundless 
darkness  beyond  and  below.  Compare  this 
picture  of  the  poet  where  description  fades 
away  in  indefinite  vastness,  with  the  same  scene 
as  the  painter  gives  it  on  the  panorama.  Here 
you  have  a  very  ordinary  looking  man  driving, 
rather  fast,  in  a  gaudy  carriage,  and  forcing  out 
a  few  streaks  of  light  from  something  which  he 
holds  in  his  right  hand.  These  streaks  of  light 
represent  the  thunderbolts  of  the  poet.  Take 
again  his  description  of  Satan,  "Stretching 
rood  on  rood  o'er  the  burning  lake,"  and  when 
he  spoke  the  vast  caverns  of  the  deep  did 
groan.  Compare  this  with  the  picture  of  Satan 
which  the  painter  gives.  The  poet's  power 
consists  in  the  indefinite  greatness  of  the  images 
he  suggests  but  does  not  describe,  leaving  our 
minds  to  follow  and  fill  out. 

This  is  the  favorite  style  of  the  Bible  in 


SERMONS  43 


speaking  of  eternal  things,  and  it  is  a  great  deal 
more  impressive  and  really  reveals  a  great 
deal  more,  and  reveals  it  more  accurately  than 
any  attempt  at  description  could  possibly  do. 
We  are  far  more  impressed  with  the  majesty 
of  God  when  he  says,  "  I  am  that  I  am,"  or  "  I 
am,  because  I  am,"  than  if  the  Word  had  gone 
on  to  define  God  and  give  an  analysis  of  his 
being  and  attributes.  We  see  more  of  Heaven 
in  the  simple  expression,  "Eye  hath  not  seen, 
nor  ear  heard,  nor  heart  conceived,"  then  we 
ever  could  see  in  the  most  glowing  description 
language  could  compass. 

The  text  is  a  very  fine  illustration  of  the 
propriety  and  power  of  this  mode  of  teaching. 
It  is  not  a  description,  but  one  of  those  poetic 
hints  at  the  destiny  of  the  Sons  of  God  which 
set  in  motion  our  own  thoughts.  "We  know 
not  what  we  shall  be."  Modern  theologians 
would  hardly  confess  this.  The  omniscient 
authors  of  our  theological  story  books  would 
hardly  confess  this.  But  he  who  had  communed 
with  Jesus  and  had  leaned  upon  his  breast,  to 
whom  afterwards  the  heavens  opened  and  its 
voices  spoke,  he  confesses  "We  know  not  what 
we  shall  be."  Our  future  destiny  is  not  only 
a  mystery,  hid  away  among  events  and  scenes 
not  yet  revealed  to  us,  but  it  is  so  vast  we  could 
not  comprehend  it  if  it  were  revealed.     We 


44  SERMONS 

not  only  cannot  know  it,  but  we  could  not 
grasp  it  if  we  could  know  it.  Even  if  our 
thought  could  get  the  right  range,  we  should 
be  lost  in  the  attempt  to  follow  it  out. 

The  Apostle  here  does  not  attempt  to  com- 
pass the  destiny  of  the  Sons  of  God.  He 
simply  gives  a  hint  that  may  point  in  the  direc- 
tion in  which  that  destiny  lies.  "We  shall  be 
like  Christ"  was  the  most  he  could  say  and  all 
he  needed  to  say.  No  other  words  could  ex- 
press so  much.  And  they  are  words  that  grow 
with  our  Christian  growth  as  we  know  more 
of  Christ.  All  there  is  in  Christ  is  wrapped  in 
those  words.  And  as  we  learn  more  and  more 
of  him,  the  vastness  of  our  future  glory  expands 
our  thought.  "We  shall  be  like  him  for  we 
shall  see  him  as  he  is."  Destined  to  be  like 
him,  his  presence  shall  complete  the  image. 

One  thought  that  this  figure  suggests  very 
vividly  is,  that  the  blessedness  of  the  future 
will  consist  in  being  like  Christ  and  not  simply 
being  with  him.  To  be  with  Christ  is  a  blessed 
thing  for  those  who  are  like  him,  or  who  are 
growing  into  his  likeness  and  have  learned  to 
love  it.  But  it  is  the  likeness  of  Christ  in  us 
that  makes  his  actual  presence  a  blessing  to 
us.  His  presence  will  be  a  congenial  place  to 
those  who  are  growing  into  the  same  image.  A 
great  mistake  is  often  made  here.     A   great 


SERMONS  45 


many  lay  more  stress  on  being  received  into 
the  presence  of  Christian  glory  than  on  having 
that  glory  found  within  them.  Thousands  of 
people  think  that  if  by  any  chance  they  can 
only  open  the  door  where  the  sons  of  God  are  to 
dwell,  the  end  of  their  Christian  hope  is  at- 
tained. We  see  the  same  mistake  in  regard  to 
earthly  things.  Men  will  strive  to  their  utmost 
to  attain  some  station  for  which  they  in  no 
wise  are  fitted,  and  where  all  their  life  must  be 
unnatural  and  irksome.  They  lose  sight  of 
the  fact  that  they  will  rise  naturally  to  the 
place  for  which  they  fit  themselves.  They  do 
not  see  how  foolish  it  is  to  struggle  for  a  posi- 
tion to  which  they  would  rise  of  themselves,  if 
they  worked  as  hard  to  prepare  for  the  place 
as  they  do  to  gain  it.  Scholars  in  school  or 
college  often  work  harder  to  make  a  false 
appearance  and  to  secure  a  false  mark  and 
false  grade  than  they  would  need  to  do  to 
deserve  and  secure  a  true  mark  and  grade. 
They  forget  that  after  all  is  done  they  do  not 
really  belong  to  the  grade  which  the  school 
record  indicates.  The  studies  to  which  they 
are  introduced  will  not  be  intelligible  or  satis- 
factory or  profitable.  But  if  they  had  pre- 
pared themselves,  they  would  be  on  a  level 
with  that  grade,  whether  the  record  put  them 
there  or  not.     So  it  is  not  so  important  that  a 


46  SERMONS 


man  should  enter  the  kingdom  of  Christ  as  that 
that  kingdom  should  enter  his  life.  The  sur- 
roundings of  the  kingdom  are  adapted  to  the 
disciple  of  that  kingdom.  Any  other  would  be 
as  manifestly  out  of  place  as  an  ignorant  man 
in  the  highest  grade  of  classical  school.  Those 
unlike  Christ  in  purpose  and  character  and  life 
would  feel  oppressed  in  his  presence  by  the 
dissimilarity.  It  would  be  an  intolerable  con- 
straint. Men  seek  their  associates  from  those 
like  themselves.  Robbers  and  thieves  do  not 
choose  honest  men  for  their  permanent  com- 
panions and  chosen  friends.  The  keepers  of 
dramshops  are  not  inclined  to  spend  their 
evenings  in  temperance  societies.  The  frivo- 
lous devotees  of  fashion  and  folly  do  not  enjoy 
themselves  in  the  society  of  whole-souled  men. 
Men  seek  their  own  class.  They  sink  to  its 
level  by  moral  gravitation.  They  may  lift 
themselves  above  it  for  a  time,  by  some  tem- 
porary spasm,  but  they  will  sink  back  again 
when  the  spasm  ceases.  They  will  not  abide 
permanently  with  those  whose  purposes  and 
tastes  cross  their  own.  They  may  wish  to  be 
reckoned  with  those  better  than  themselves, 
but  they  will  go  to  their  own  place  the  moment 
their  inclinations  are  allowed  free  play  and  they 
cease  to  act  a  constrained  part. 

So  those  in  no  wise  like  Christ  not  only  can 


SERMONS  47 


not  be  with  him,  but  would  not  wish  to  be. 
The  presence  of  Christ  would  be  a  perpetual 
rebuke  to  every  thought  their  hearts  ever 
cherished  and  would  repress  every  purpose  to 
which  they  had  given  their  lives.  To  a  man 
who  had  nothing  of  Christ  in  him,  who  was  in 
no  wise  like  him  in  his  moral  temper,  the  atmos- 
phere of  Heaven  would  be  stifling.  So  the 
chief  element  of  Heaven  is  likeness  to  Christ. 
This  is  the  great  central  feature  of  its  joys. 
All  the  rest  is  but  the  framework.  This  is  the 
picture.  It  will  depend  more  on  the  likeness 
of  Christ  formed  in  us  than  on  the  presence  of 
Christ  before  us;  more  on  what  we  are  than  on 
where  we  are. 

A  second  thought  suggested  by  the  text  is, 
that  the  completed  likeness  of  the  future  is  the 
natural  outgrowth  of  the  present.  Christianity 
in  the  soul  is  more  than  a  wish.  Many  men 
have  wished  to  be  better  and  still  continued  to 
grow  worse.  A  wish  to  rise  may  not  ever  check 
the  rapidity  with  which  a  man  is  sinking.  A 
man  who  has  stepped  off  from  a  precipice  may 
wish  he  might  step  back  again,  but  the  wish 
will  not  take  him  back.  Many  a  man  has 
looked  with  longing  eyes  from  the  abyss  of 
dissipated  degradation  and  wished  with  frantic 
earnestness  that  he  were  back  at  the  starting 
point  of  his  descent.     But  his  wishes  do  not 


48  SERMONS 


lift  him  out  nor  return  the  promise  of  former 
days  which  had  been  once  despised  and  re- 
jected. Christianity  in  the  soul  is  more  than 
this.  It  is  a  life  implanted.  It  is  the  likeness 
of  Christ  begun.  Fellowship  with  Christ  is 
no  mere  charm  that  opens  the  treasures  of  his 
Kingdom.  It  is  the  beginning  of  a  new  life 
"It  is  Christ  formed  within  us."  Very  dimly 
formed,  perhaps,  but  yet  really  there.  The 
image  may  be  very  faint  but  it  will  grow  more 
and  more  distinct  till  it  covers  or  obliterates 
every  other  image  and  we  become  "like  him." 
Ours  may  be  but  the  first  fruits  of  the  Spirit. 
But  it  is  a  specimen  of  the  coming  harvest 
whose  approach  it  suggests  and  proves.  The 
grain  of  mustard  seed  is  very  small,  but  it  has 
in  it  the  promise  of  a  great  tree.  The  morning 
twilight  may  be  very  dim,  but  it  gives  promise 
of  growing  brighter  and  brighter,  of  shining 
more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day.  The 
Christian  looks  forward,  therefore,  to  no 
strange  transformation.  He  will  experience 
the  completion  of  what  was  begun  here  and 
what  he  has  longed  and  labored  for  on  earth. 
The  spirit  which  here  struggled  for  the  mastery 
of  the  corruptions  of  the  flesh  and  the  wiles  of 
Satan,  will  there  be  complete  in  its  triumph  and 
victory  and  control. 

I  notice  in  the  third  place  that  the  process 


SERMONS  49 


of  growth  in  the  future  is  the  same  as  the 
process  of  growth  in  the  present.  Acquaint- 
ance with  Christ  develops  the  germ  here;  the 
sight  of  Christ  is  to  complete  the  growth  there. 
We  grow  slowly  into  his  likeness  here  as  we 
dimly  read  his  character;  we  shall  open  in  to 
his  full  likeness  there  as  we  stand  before  him 
and  see  him  face  to  face.  There  is  nothing 
unnatural  in  this.  We  grow  like  that  we  look 
upon  and  dwell  with.  The  chameleon  is  not 
the  only  example  of  colors  changing  with 
surrounding  objects.  It  is  a  well-known  pi'in- 
ciple  of  human  life.  The  painter  looks  at  his 
favorite  models  for  hours,  not  that  he  may  copy 
them  or  even  imitate  them,  but  that  he  may 
catch  their  spirit  and  acquire  a  similar  style 
of  taste.  The  musician  studies  the  works 
of  the  best  masters  and  listens  to  their  strains, 
not  merely  to  analyze  them,  but  that  his  own 
taste  may  insensibly  be  elevated  and  purified 
by  the  communion.  By  long  study  of  an 
author  a  man's  style  of  expression  gradually 
grows  to  resemble  his,  not  by  any  mimicry  but 
by  natural  power  of  association  and  contact. 
When  two  men  associate  together  they  each 
partake  of  the  other.  The  resemblance  in 
families  between  brothers  and  sisters  is  not 
all  inherited.  It  is  partly  the  transformation 
of  one  by  another.     A  man  is  known  by  the 


50  SERMONS 


company  he  keeps,  not  simply  because  he  would 
naturally  associate  with  those  like  him,  but 
because  he  would  naturally  become  like  those 
with  whom  he  associates.  The  characters  we 
live  with  and  love  have  an  untold  influence 
upon  us.  This  law  is  not  changed  when  we 
pass  into  the  region  of  faith.  Beings  whom 
"unseen  we  love"  have  their  influence  in 
shaping  us  as  well  as  those  we  see.  Famil- 
iarity with  the  mere  thought  of  Christ  would 
influence  us.  Still  more  influential  is  the 
personal  communion  of  those  who  believe 
in  his  name.  The  more  close  the  sympathy, 
the  more  intimate  the  communion,  the  more 
mighty  the  influence.  We  never  grow  weary 
of  the  acquaintance  of  Christ.  We  never  can 
fathom  the  depths  of  his  character.  It  is  one 
of  those  things  that  grow  vaster  the  more  we 
know  of  them.  Some  things  bear  acquaint- 
ance, we  know;  others  seem  to  be  exhausted 
at  the  first  glance  and  after  that  they  weary 
us.  Some  paintings  look  beautiful  at  first 
sight,  and  after  that  seem  common  and  mean- 
ingless. Others  attract  no  special  attenton 
when  we  first  see  them,  but  grow  full  of  expres- 
sion and  depth  of  beauty  as  we  gaze  at  them 
and  study  them.  Some  tunes  only  bear  hear- 
ing once  or  twice.  A  large  share  of  the  popular 
music  of  the  day  is  of  this  kind.     Others  sound 


SERMONS  51 


the  sweeter  the  oftener  they  are  repeated. 
Some  buildings  attract  our  attention  as  we  pass 
them.  But  when  we  become  familiar  with 
them  they  are  seen  to  be  irregular  and  without 
any  controlling  idea  or  design.  Others  make 
no  impression  on  us  at  first,  but  as  we  study 
them  we  are  more  and  more  impressed  with 
their  beauty  and  proportion.  It  is  said  that 
on  first  entering  St.  Peter's  at  Rome  a  man  is 
not  much  impressed  with  its  great  size.  But 
as  he  remains  and  compares  magnitudes,  as  he 
sees  men  in  different  parts  and  up  towards  the 
dome,  dwindling  down  to  little  images,  he 
begins  by  degrees  to  gain  a  conception  of  the 
vastness  and  grandeur  of  the  building.  Its 
proportions  begin  to  steal  upon  him  and  the 
longer  he  stays  the  greater  and  the  grander  the 
immense  proportions  seem  to  him.  The  first 
feeling  of  most  persons  at  Niagara  is  that  of 
disappointment.  We  must  stay  with  it  and 
cultivate  its  acquaintance  if  we  would  go  away 
with  any  suitable  and  true  impression  of  its 
greatness  and  power.  This  quality  marks  the 
difference  between  real  greatness  and  preten- 
sion; between  surface  beauty  and  deep  gen- 
uine merit.  It  marks  the  difference  between 
natural  scenery  and  imitation,  between  the 
artist  and  the  dauber,  between  the  genuine 
musician  and  the  jingler  of  rhymes. 


52  SERMONS 


We  have  but  little  recorded  of  the  life  of 
Christ.  But  few  events  are  recorded  and  those 
only  briefly  and  very  simply.  We  know  but 
few  things  that  he  did.  We  know  but  few 
things  that  he  said.  Those  few  things  are 
stated  with  great  brevity  and  simplicity.  We 
have  learned  very  little  about  Christ  if  we 
have  only  learned  the  things  he  said  and  did. 
It  is  only  a  short  series  of  scattered  events  giv- 
ing no  connected  history  of  his  life,  but  only 
letting  us  have  a  glimpse  here  and  there.  But 
these  glimpses  show  Christ  himself,  just  as  a 
painter,  by  a  few  touches  of  his  brush,  will 
enable  you  to  gain  a  conception  of  the  ideal 
that  lies  in  his  own  mind  and  to  which  he  is 
working.  The  more  we  read  these  scattered 
records,  the  more  we  dwell  on  his  wonderful 
words,  the  more  we  come  to  see  him  who  was 
the  subject  of  those  records  and  the  author  of 
those  words.  And  the  character  grows  fuller 
and  richer  and  more  marvelous  every  time  we 
study  it,  until  we  come  almost  to  hush  our 
breath  as  we  appear  before  it.  Then  when  we 
know  that  this  growing,  glowing  character  is 
not  a  picture,  but  only  a  faint  shadowing  forth 
of  him  who  was  touched  with  the  feeling  of 
our  infirmity,  and  who  ever  liveth  to  make 
intercession  for  us,  our  reverent  admiration 
changes  into  a  loving  faith.     To  those  who 


SERMONS  53 


have  seen  only  the  incidents  and  words  of  the 
record,  and  who  have  never  seen  Christ  him- 
self through  them,  he  is  as  the  prophet  said 
he  would  be,  "A  root  out  of  dry  ground,  with- 
out form  or  comeliness,  with  no  beauty  that 
they  should  desire  him,"  The  richest  music, 
the  finest  works  of  art,  the  grandest  buildings 
are  not  appreciated  by  those  who  do  not  bring 
their  spirit  into  sympathy  with  them.  The 
symphonies  of  Beethoven  are  meaningless  to 
one  who  only  catches  the  succession  of  sounds 
and  movements,  and  fails  to  see  through  these 
the  underlying  idea  that  inspired  them.  So 
one  who  only  sees  the  facts  of  Christ's  life  and 
has  never  seen  him  through  those  facts,  can- 
not understand  the  loving  reverence  of  those 
who  have  seen  Jesus  himself  as  he  shone  through 
the  deeds  and  words  recorded  of  him.  We 
seem  like  one  who  is  telling  a  dream  when  we 
speak  of  the  wonders  we  see  in  the  gem  of  gems. 
They  read  his  life  only  as  so  many  pages  of 
print,  then  pass  over  what  is  said  of  him  as  so 
many  incidents  and  miracles  and  so  many 
parables  and  discourses.  A  man  might  as  well 
count  the  faces  and  figures  in  a  painting  and 
think  by  this  he  could  understand  it.  The 
faces  and  figures  mean  nothing  by  themselves. 
The  meaning  lurks  in  their  grouping  and  shad- 
ing and  in  a  certain  undefinable  quality  which 


54  SERMONS 


guides  and  characterizes  the  touch  of  genius. 
We  read  of  Christ  that  we  may  know  him,  and 
the  image  that  rises  before  us  is  vastly  larger 
and  deeper  and  more  significant  than  all  the 
separate  parts  of  which  it  is  composed.  So  we 
come  to  know  him,  and  knowing  him  we  come 
to  love  him,  and  loving  him  we  come  to  long 
to  be  like  him.  But  we  only  "know  in  part," 
we  only  "see  through  a  glass  darkly";  and  we 
wait  for  the  day  when  we  shall  see  face  to 
face  and  for  the  hour  when  we  shall  know  as  we 
are  known. 

Though  we  cannot  know  what  we  shall  be, 
we  are  satisfied  to  know  we  shall  be  like  Christ. 
We  do  not  yet  fully  comprehend  what  that 
means,  but  we  are  learning  day  by  day  and  the 
meaning  enlarges  as  our  knowledge  expands. 
What  perfects  the  likeness  in  Heaven  may 
increase  it  here  on  earth.  When  we  see  him 
as  he  is,  we  shall  be  like  him.  As  here  we  see 
him  more  and  more,  more  and  more  shall  we 
resemble  him.  The  more  we  know  of  him, 
the  more  shall  we  grow  like  him.  And  the 
more  we  become  like  him,  the  more  shall  the 
joy  and  blessedness  of  the  everlasting  life 
dwell  with  us  here  on  earth.  As  we  rise  in 
knowledge  and  faith  and  love,  shall  we  ap- 
proach the  likeness  of  the  Sons  of  God.  But 
approach  as  we  will,  it  will  still  remain  true 


SERMONS  55 


that  we  know  not  what  we  shall  be.  For  how- 
ever much  we  receive,  still  there  is  more  to 
come. 

"Oh,  the  grace  the  Father  shows; 

Still  there's  more  to  follow. 
Freely  he  his  grace  bestows; 

Still  there's  more  to  follow. 
More  and  more,  more  and  more, 

Still  there's  more  to  follow. 
Oh,  his  matchless,  boundless  love; 

Still  there's  more  to  follow." 


V 

"the  mutual  faith  of  you  and  me" 

Rom.  i:  12 

PAUL  wished  to  go  to  Rome  to  preach 
Jesus  Christ.  He  wished  to  do  some- 
thing to  estabHsh  the  church  in  that  great 
capital  of  the  world.  But  he  was  not  the  first 
to  carry  the  Glad  Tidings  to  Rome.  Some  one 
had  been  there  before  him,  and  there  was  al- 
ready a  beginning.  He  would  recognize  what 
had  been  done,  and  he  would  use  it  as  the 
basis  for  further  success.  He  would  have  them 
understand  that  he  was  not  coming  to  start 
a  new  movement,  but  to  strengthen  and  enlarge 
what  was  already  there.  He  wished  to  concil- 
iate them  in  advance  that  he  might  have  their 
cooperation  when  he  came.  This  is  what  I 
think  he  means  by  "the  mutual  faith  of  you 
and  me."  He  was  not  coming  as  a  lone  man 
to  proclaim  a  new  religion  in  the  streets  of 
Rome,  where  they  were  accustomed  to  receive 
a  new  religion  about  twice  a  month;  but  he 
was  coming  to  cooperate  with  them  in  what 
they  had  already  undertaken.  "You  know 
Rome,  and  I  do  not.  You  are  known  there, 
and  I  am  not.     You  know   the  people,  and 

56 


SERMONS  57 


you  know  how  to  approach  them.  I  shall 
depend  on  your  acquaintance,  your  influence, 
and  your  judgment,  in  laying  my  plans  and 
doing  my  work.  We  have  the  same  Master, 
the  same  faith,  the  same  aims  and  the  same 
purposes.  I  wish  to  honor  Christ  and  so  do 
you.  I  wish  to  win  men  to  the  truth  and  so 
do  you.  I  shall  depend  on  your  sympathy, 
your  knowledge  of  the  people,  to  gain  access 
and  to  win  a  hearing.  It  shall  be  by  the  mutual 
faith  of  you  and  me  that  Rome  shall  be  won 
to  Christ."  The  members  of  the  church  at 
Rome  were  to  open  the  way  for  the  Great 
Apostle  and  multiply  his  effectiveness  by  their 
own  cooperation. 

This  was  Paul's  policy  everywhere,  as  far  as 
it  could  be  applied.  He  everywhere  sought 
for  some  local  way  of  access.  If  he  did  not 
find  it  at  once  he  waited  till  he  did  find  it. 
He  entered  Philippi  a  stranger,  knowing  no 
one,  and  known  of  none.  He  did  not  go  into 
the  market  place,  and  ring  a  bell  and  swing 
his  arms  and  shout  and  tell  the  people  who  he 
was  and  what  he  had  come  for.  He  came  to 
the  town  as  any  other  stranger  might  have 
come,  and  quietly  waited  his  opportunity. 
On  Sabbath  morning  a  company  of  Jewish 
women  were  accustomed  to  meet  by  the  river- 
side to  worship  God  after  their  own  fashion. 


58  SERMONS 


Paul  was  a  Jew  and  had  a  right  to  join  with 
them  in  their  service.  He  told  them  of  Jesus  as 
the  natural  expectation  of  the  Jewish  people 
and  as  the  natural  outcome  of  the  Jewish  faith. 
Lyddia,  the  leading  character  in  the  company, 
accepted  his  teaching,  and  offered  her  services 
to  the  new  faith.  Thus  in  a  perfectly  natural 
way  Paul  found  a  local  opening  in  this  strange 
city.  Through  this  little  group  of  converts 
by  the  riverside  Paul  gained  access  to  Philippi 
and  all  that  followed  was  in  natural  consequence 
of  the  simple  method  he  adopted.  He  first 
found  a  few  sympathetic  souls,  and  through 
them  found  his  way  to  the  ear  of  the  com- 
munity. He  might  have  said  to  that  river- 
side group  of  disciples,  as  he  said  to  the  church 
at  Rome:  "  By  the  mutual  faith  of  you  and  me 
we  will  win  our  way  to  the  heart  of  this  great 
city."  And  the  Church  that  was  at  Philippi, 
the  most  faithful  of  all  the  churches  Paul 
gathered  about  the  Aegean  Sea,  stood  for  ages 
as  the  fruit  of  his  wise  method  of  approach. 
The  company  at  the  riverside  were  not  of 
his  faith,  but  they  were  the  nearest  akin  to 
him  in  their  spirit  of  anything  he  would  find 
in  the  city.  There  was  a  common  ground  of 
sympathy  and  cooperation,  and  Paul  was  wise 
enough  to  take  advantage  of  it.  We  see  from 
the  epistle  to  the  Romans  that  the  church  at 


SERMONS  59 


Rome  was  not  just  such  as  he  would  like  to 
have  it.  But  it  afforded  a  common  ground  of 
approach  and  influence,  and  he  was  wise  enough 
to  use  what  he  could  find.  By  the  mutual 
faith  of  them  both  they  could  join  hands  in 
the  work  they  wished  to  see  done. 

Paul's  method  of  leadership  is  the  most 
effective  of  any  in  the  world.  He  who  can 
find  the  elements  of  strength  is  stronger  than 
he  who  possesses  strength  himself.  He  who 
can  win  the  assent  of  men  is  stronger  than  he 
who  can  compel  that  assent.  The  merging 
of  men  by  a  common  thought  makes  a  vastly 
stronger  combination  than  the  merging  of 
them  by  authority  and  force.  It  is  said  that 
Xerxes  had  five  millions  of  men  when  he  under- 
took the  conquest  of  Greece.  His  authority 
over  them  was  absolute.  His  power  was  so 
absolute  that  his  conceit  knew  no  bounds. 
He  went  so  far,  they  say,  as  to  order  the  Hel- 
lespont flogged  because  it  tore  up  his  pontoons. 
But  when  he  came  to  Greece  he  met  a  small 
army  of  freemen.  There  was  not  one  Greek 
to  ten  Persians.  They  were  indifferently  led, 
and  were  not  agreed  in  their  own  counsels. 
But  every  man  was  a  Greek,  and  all  had  one 
thought,  that  the  Persians  must  not  desecrate 
the  sacred  soil  of  their  country.  When  the 
great  hosts  of  the   East  came  sweeping  on, 


6o  SERMONS 

the    little  band  met  them  with  an  onset  so 
furious,  that  they  were  thrown  into  confusion 
and  became  an  unwieldy  and  helpless  mass. 
The  Persians  obeyed  orders;  the  Greeks  obeyed 
their  impulse.     Sometime  in  the  fifties,  dur- 
ing the  discussion  which  followed  the  passage 
of  the  fugitive  slave  law,  Jefferson  Davis  in 
the   United   States   Senate,    I    think   it   was, 
urged  the  necessity  of  a  larger  regular  army 
to  enforce  the  laws.     The  fugitive  slave  law 
was  everywhere  resisted  and  the  local  author- 
ities and  the  local  military  could  not  be  relied 
upon  to  enforce  it.     They  fell  in  with  the  local 
anti-slavery  sentiment,   and  refused   to  obey 
their  superiors  against  their  convictions.     To 
meet  this  emergency  Davis  urged  the  need  of 
a  larger  regular  army,   which  would   not  be 
influenced   by  local  sentiment.     They  would 
obey  orders  without  regard  to  opinion.     To 
enforce  the  law  he  insisted  we  need  "These 
unimpassioned     instruments     of     war."     He 
would  have  an  army  which  would  move  as  it 
was  ordered,  and  do  as  it  was  bid,  asking  no 
questions  and  making  no  reply. 

"Theirs  not  to  make  reply; 
Their's  not  to  reason  why; 
Their's  but  to  do,  and  die." 

There  Is  power  in  an  army  like  that.     It  is 
the  common  European  idea  of  an  army.     They 


SERMONS  6i 


would  not  tolerate  any  other.  They  have  al- 
ways made  sport  of  our  volunteer  service,  where 
private  soldiers  have  opinions  and  sympathies. 
They  have  insisted  that  such  troops  as  ours 
could  never  stand  before  their  "unimpassioned 
instruments  of  war,"  but  of  late  the  opinion 
has  changed  in  this  matter.  In  the  Spanish 
war  our  soldiers  showed  a  quality  which  their 
soldiers  lack.  Our  soldiers  may  not  obey  so 
promptly  and  they  may  not  move  so  steadily 
but  they  display  what  the  correspondents  call, 
"the  initiative,"  which  stolid  veterans  lack. 
Every  man  has  a  part  in  the  contest  and 
watches  his  opportunity  to  strike  most  effec- 
tively. The  man  without  convictions  may 
make  the  best  machine,  but  the  man  with  con- 
victions will  make  the  best  soldier.  At  the 
battle  of  Trafalgar  Lord  Nelson  displayed  at 
the  masthead  of  his  flagship  an  ensign  with  the 
inscription,  "England  expects  every  man  to  do 
his  duty."  Every  man  in  the  fleet,  as  he  saw 
that  motto,  was  inspired  to  do  his  utmost  to 
meet  the  expectation  of  his  country.  Some 
author  has  said  that  "Instantly  every  man  in 
that  fleet  became  as  four  men,  every  gun  be- 
came as  four  guns,  and  every  ship  became  as 
four  ships."  At  Santiago,  Roosevelt  led  his 
rough  riders  in  the  face  of  a  galling  fire.  But 
he  did  not  lead  one  whit  more  eagerly  than 


62  SERMONS 


they  all  followed.  Roosevelt  led  and  inspired, 
but  every  man  in  the  command  was  as  good  as 
himself.  He  commanded  only  because  he 
spoke  the  thought  that  was  in  every  one  of 
their  hearts,  and  he  led  them  because  they  all 
wished  to  go  the  way  he  was  going.  Crom- 
well's army  was  invincible  because  every  man 
in  it  was  inspired  with  a  common  purpose. 
The  men  of  the  revolution  could  never  be  con- 
quered because  every  man  in  the  colonies  had 
sworn  that  the  country  should  be  free.  The 
army  was  almost  annihilated  several  times, 
but  new  armies  came  up  as  from  the  ground. 
The  soldiers  received  pay  as  long  as  money 
could  be  obtained,  and  then  they  fought  with- 
out pay.  They  were  fed  from  the  public 
store  as  long  as  the  stores  lasted,  and  then  they 
provided  for  themselves,  but  no  one  thought 
of  submission.  A  British  officer  went  with  a 
message  to  a  small  American  camp  in  South 
Carolina.  He  was  cordially  received,  and  was 
asked  to  dine  with  the  officers.  As  dinner  time 
drew  near  he  saw  no  sign  of  dinner.  But  at 
the  proper  time  a  negro  servant  came  in  and 
laid  the  cloth,  and  then  drew  out  a  lot  of  sweet 
potatoes  from  ashes  on  the  hearth,  and  these 
constituted  their  dinner.  When  he  returned 
to  his  own  company  he  said,  "A  people  who 
will  fight  and  live  on  roots  can  never  be  con- 


SERMONS  63 


quered."     Defeat  might  crush  the  armies,  but 
could  not  crush  the  people. 

I  have  wondered  why  some  of  our  economic 
leaders  do  not  apply  this  method  to  the  labor 
situation.  The  interests  of  master  and  men 
are  identical.  They  are  mutually  dependent 
the  one  on  the  other.  Is  there  not  some  one 
of  our  great  leaders  wise  enough  to  make  this 
appear  and  apply  it?  They  can  manage  steel 
and  mold  it  to  their  will.  By  long  study  and 
long  patience  they  have  overcome  every  dif- 
ficulty, and  produced  the  product  they  desired. 
Would  not  the  same  skill  and  patience  be 
equally  successful  if  applied  to  men?  The 
man  who  can  manage  a  railroad  and  keep  a 
hundred  trains  from  colliding,  ought  to  be 
able  to  manage  the  men  who  move  these 
trains,  and  keep  them  harmonious  and  con- 
tented. They  work  steel  according  to  the  laws 
of  steel;  they  work  wool  according  to  the  laws 
of  wool;  they  apply  steam  according  to  the 
laws  of  steam.  They  must  learn  to  manage 
men  according  to  the  laws  of  human  nature. 
This  is  the  next  great  problem.  A  man  is  not 
competent  to  manage  a  railroad  unless  he  can 
comprehend  track  and  train,  switch  and  engine. 
The  time  is  coming  when  he  must  add  to  this 
the  power  to  manage  the  men  who  turn  the 
switch  and  move  the  engine,  who  load  the  cars 


64  SERMONS 


and  care  for  the  road.  He  will  not  manage 
them  by  compulsion  as  once  was  possible, 
but  he  must  manage  them  by  securing  their 
own  free  assent.  They  must  be  made  to  see 
that  they  have  an  interest  in  the  road,  in  the 
mill,  in  the  foundry,  in  the  mine  with  which 
they  work.  Somehow  they  must  be  made  to 
share  the  profits  in  a  way  that  shall  show  that 
master  and  men  are  one  in  the  great  establish- 
ment they  jointly  carry  on.  The  great  anth- 
racite strike  was  an  unspeakable  calamity  to 
both  parties.  The  miners  lost  millions  in 
wages,  while  the  mine-owners  lost  millions  in 
profits.  Is  there  not  somebody  great  enough 
to  put  his  hand  on  both  parties  and  show  them 
that  their  interests  are  one,  and  that  any 
settlement  is  better  than  controversy?  The 
operators  and  the  men  are  alike  interested  in 
those  great  coal  measures.  The  miners  have 
their  living  there,  and  the  operators  have 
their  fortune  there.  And  they  are  dependent 
on  each  other.  They  can  neither  of  them  move 
without  the  other.  The  operators  cannot 
move  a  pound  of  coal  without  the  workmen, 
and  the  workmen  cannot  open  a  mine  without 
the  money.  They  can  either  of  them  balk 
the  other,  and  either  of  them  can  make  their 
common  property  of  no  value  to  either  of 
them.     It  is  to  the  interest  of  both  that  they 


SERMONS  65 


work  in  harmony.  If  the  mine-owners  should 
find  some  physical  obstruction  they  would  soon 
overcome  it.  If  it  were  water,  they  would 
pump  it  out;  if  it  were  gas,  they  would  drive 
it  away;  if  the  rock  were  obstinate,  they  would 
find  a  way  to  reduce  it.  But  the  men  are  more 
important  than  physical  conditions.  All  con- 
ditions are  without  avail  if  the  men  will  not 
work.  Cannot  some  one  make  them  all  see  that 
they  have  common  interests  at  stake?  Men 
are  more  reasonable  than  rocks  and  waters 
and  noxious  gases.  They  could  be  made  to 
share  the  prosperity  of  the  mines  in  such  a 
way  that  they  would  feel  that  they  were  work- 
ing for  their  own  when  they  were  working  for 
the  common  good.  It  will  require  some  skill; 
it  will  require  some  patience;  it  will  cost  some 
money,  perhaps.  But  improved  machinery 
costs  money;  improved  methods  cost  money; 
better  means  of  transportation  cost  money. 
But  in  the  end  they  more  than  pay  it  back. 
The  men  are  more  than  all  these.  A  little 
kindness,  a  little  thoughtfulness,  a  little  justice, 
would  make  all  run  smoothly  and  keep  the 
mines  open  and  keep  the  trains  running,  and 
keep  the  furnaces  burning.  And  this  is  what 
they  must  come  to.  The  old  conditions  are 
not  coming  back.  The  day  was  when  the 
employer  would  sneer  at  the  idea  of  his  men 
5 


66  SERMONS 

making  terms.  The  master  was  everything 
and  the  men  were  nothing.  He  must  order, 
and  they  must  mind.  But  that  day  has  gone. 
The  men  have  rights  and  know  them,  and  the 
master  must  respect  them  and  he  knows  that. 
They  have  rights  as  well  as  duties,  and  he  has 
duties  as  well  as  rights.  He  must  consult 
his  men,  and  conciliate  them,  and  consider 
them  in  all  his  operations.  What  a  power  a 
great  industrial  plant  would  be  if  all  connected 
with  it  were  interested  in  it,  from  the  girl 
who  tied  the  threads  for  a  few  shillings  a  week, 
to  the  designer  who  drew  the  patterns  for  many 
thousands  a  year!  The  men  who  manage 
these  great  plants  ought  to  be  great  enough  to 
compass  a  result  like  this.  And  the  time  is 
coming  when  nothing  less  than  this  will  answer. 
The  man  who  would  manage  a  railroad  must 
not  only  be  able  to  run  its  hundreds  of  trains 
smoothly,  but  he  must  be  able  to  get  along 
smoothly  with  its  thousands  of  men.  And 
this  is  not  an  unreasonable  demand.  Men  are 
less  hard  to  manage  than  steel  rails  and  steam 
engines  and  electric  batteries.  You  would 
never  put  a  man  in  charge  of  a  telegraph  office 
who  could  not  manage  a  battery.  This  con- 
dition must  come.  Self-interest  demands  it 
as  well  as  philanthropy.  In  fact  it  is  coming  to 
be  realized  that  self-interest  and  philanthropy 


SERMONS  67 

run  on  the  same  track.  When  the  mutual 
interests  of  men  come  to  be  understood,  the 
mutual  faith  of  men  will  be  manifest.  Men 
will  see  eye  to  eye  when  the  mists  have  blown 
away.  Men  are  mutually  dependent  on  each 
other,  and  interest  and  philanthropy  walk 
hand  in  hand.  In  business  and  social  life  we 
come  to  see  this  very  plainly.  The  business 
man  and  his  customer;  the  professional  man 
and  his  client;  the  master  and  his  men,  are 
mutually  dependent  on  each  other.  A  busi- 
ness man's  customers  can  clog  his  business; 
a  professional  man's  clients  can  destroy  his 
practise;  the  manufacturer's  workmen  can  stop 
his  mills.  In  social  life  he  who  would  be  a 
friend  must  find  a  friend,  and  he  who  would 
have  a  friend  must  be  a  friend.  It  is  mutual 
interest  and  mutual  faith  which  bind  the  world 
together  in  all  its  manifold  and  complicated 
relationships.  The  mutual  faith  of  you  and 
me  makes  us  friends  and  makes  us  associates, 
and  enables  us  to  cooperate  in  our  plans  of 
service  for  men. 

I  did  not  intend  to  let  this  thought  run  away 
with  me  to  this  extent  when  I  took  it  up.  I 
have  spent  so  much  time  in  developing  my  prin- 
ciple I  fear  I  shall  not  have  time  to  apply  it. 
May  I  not  hope  that  the  principle  is  clear 
enough  to  apply  itself?     I  want  to  come  back 


68  SERMONS 


to  the  thought  of  the  beginning,  to  Paul's 
dehcate  suggestion  to  his  Roman  brethren,  "I 
am  coming  to  Rome  to  preach  Christ.  I  am 
a  stranger,  but  you  are  not  strangers.  I  come 
to  join  hands  with  you  in  the  work  we  both 
wish  to  see  done.  By  the  mutual  faith  of  you 
and  me  we  shall  gain  the  end  we  seek."  We 
are  a  band  of  Christian  people.  We  have 
each  our  own  life  to  live,  and  our  own  work  to 
do,  our  own  living  to  earn,  and  our  own  inter- 
ests to  look  after.  But  we  all  call  ourselves 
Christians.  We  all  have  something  in  com- 
mon. This  common  thought  is  our  bond  of 
union,  and  in  this  union  we  call  ourselves 
Plymouth  Church.  We  have  promised  each 
other  certain  things  we  desire  each  should  do 
for  the  other.  We  have  promised  each  other 
some  mutual  care  and  mutual  sympathy.  We 
owe  to  each  other  what  we  have  promised 
each  other  to  do.  We  are  not  to  wait  for  one 
another,  but  each  to  do  his  part.  It  is  not  a 
matter  of  barter  and  exchange.  You  are  not 
to  do  your  part  because  your  brother  does  his 
part.  You  are  to  do  your  part  whether  he 
does  his  or  not.  You  are  to  do  your  part  be- 
cause you  promised  God  you  would  do  it. 
The  primal  Christian  idea  is  duty.  Not  what 
will  I  get,  but  what  can  I  do?  Not  what  good 
will  come  to  me,  but  of  what  use  can  I  be  to 


SERMONS  69 


my  friends?  Not,  what  will  he  do  for  me,  but 
what  can  I  do  for  him? 

The  members  of  Plymouth  Church  owe 
something  to  each  other.  And  we  owe  some- 
thing to  the  community  we  Hve  in,  the  people 
we  live  among,  the  people  we  deal  with,  and 
the  people  we  mingle  with.  We  represent 
Christ  among  them,  and  we  must  hold  up 
Christ  before  them.  The  pastor  is  not  the 
church;  the  officers  are  not  the  church;  the 
social  and  missionary  societies  are  not  the 
church.  These  are  parts  of  the  church.  But 
the  church  is  the  whole  membership.  They  all 
share  its  benefits,  and  they  all  share  its  respon- 
sibilities. You  are,  each  of  you,  a  part  of  the 
life  of  the  church ;  a  part  of  its  possible  force. 

There  was  a  time  when  the  master  com- 
manded and  the  men  obeyed.  He  spake  and 
it  was  done.  But  now  one  man  leads  others 
only  as  he  can  speak  the  word  which  is  common 
to  them  all.  There  was  a  time  when  the  min- 
ister stood  for  the  church.  He  conducted 
the  worship  and  did  most  of  the  Christian 
work.  His  opinion  settled  controversies,  and 
his  word  was  a  law  of  the  church.  Now  the 
minister's  opinions  are  worth  just  what  the 
reasons  for  them  are  worth,  and  he  leads  his 
church  only  as  he  can  speak  the  word  which 
is  common  to  them  all.     He  leads  the  church 


70  SERMONS 


because  they  wish  to  go  the  way  he  is  going. 
But  this  is  the  best  leading  in  the  world — not 
for  honor,  but  for  efficiency.  There  is  nothing 
so  resistless  as  a  company  of  men  moving  with 
a  common  impulse.  And  there  is  no  impulse 
so  strong  as  a  Christian  impulse.  The  accumu- 
lated Christian  force  of  five  hundred  people  is 
something  to  thank  God  for.  I  am  not  much. 
I  am  but  one.  But  if  I  can  speak  the  word 
which  finds  an  echo  in  all  your  hearts,  there  is 
a  power  which  no  man  can  measure.  Every 
member  adds  to  the  moral  momentum.  Every 
member  touches  somebody  he  might  influence 
and  help.  Altogether  you  touch  a  large  circle. 
It  is  not  me,  but  the  mutual  faith  of  you  and 
me.  Let  every  one  take  his  share,  and  we  may 
see  wonders  wrought  in  the  name  of  the  Lord. 
The  pastor  is  not  much  if  he  stand  alone,  but 
a  whole  church  thus  minded  is  a  blessed  fel- 
lowship. The  promise  of  the  year  is  with  you. 
It  is  the  mutual  faith  of  you  and  me  which 
is  to  bring  what  we  all  seek. 


VI 

"he  steadfastly  set  his  face  to  go  to 
jerusalem" 

Luke  9: 51 

T^HE  equivalent  of  this  expression  appears 
•*•  several  times  in  various  connections. 
This  was  several  months  before  his  final  ascent. 
It  was  an  earlier  journey,  to  make  some  private 
arrangements  for  that  more  important  and 
more  public  visit.  It  says  that  as  the  time 
drew  near  when  he  was  to  be  taken  up,  he  set 
his  face  as  if  he  would  go  to  Jerusalem.  Yet 
this  was  soon  after  the  transfiguration,  and 
several  months  before  the  "time  when  he  was 
to  be  taken  up."  But  already  his  face  was 
steadfastly  set  as  if  he  would  go  up  to  Jerusa- 
lem. From  this  on,  that  was  his  prominent 
thought  and  steadfast  purpose.  The  people 
about  him  did  not  take  to  his  going.  Hereto- 
fore Galilee  had  been  the  scene  of  his  ministry. 
The  people  of  Capernaum  had  come  to  think 
that  their  city  w^ould  become  the  center  of  the 
new  faith.  They  did  not  like  the  idea  of  his 
work  and  influence  being  transferred  to  Judea 
and  Jerusalem.  And  the  people  of  Samaria 
did  not  take  kindly  to  the  idea  of  his  going  to 

71 


72  SERMONS 


Jerusalem.  Since  his  interview  with  the  woman 
at  Jacob's  Well,  they  had  felt  that  he  was  as 
much  for  them  as  for  the  Jews,  and  that  they 
would  have  equal  part  at  least,  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  his  Kingdom.  As  he  seemed  to  want 
to  go  south  therefore  they  would  not  assist  him, 
nor  aid  his  journey.  But  with  his  disciples 
indifferent,  the  people  of  Galilee  disapproving, 
and  the  people  of  Samaria  opposing,  he  still 
set  his  face  as  if  he  would  go  to  Jerusalem. 
From  this  thought  he  could  not  be  diverted  nor 
restrained.  He  was  mingling  with  the  people, 
he  was  healing  the  sick,  he  was  teaching  all  who 
came  to  him.  He  was  not  at  all  indifferent  to 
the  calls  on  all  sides  of  him,  but  all  the  while 
"his  face  was  set"  towards  Jerusalem.  What- 
ever he  was  doing,  this  was  his  ultimate 
thought.  At  another  time  from  this,  he  had 
been  talking  of  what  was  to  come  to  him,  and 
he  walked  before  the  disciples  with  a  bearing 
so  majestic  that  they  followed  him  with  awe. 
As  he  carried  out  his  purpose  he  was  often 
delayed  and  hindered.  But  he  went  right  on 
when  the  delay  was  over.  He  sent  a  few  of 
his  disciples  first  to  prepare  for  him,  and  then 
he  sent  the  seventy  on  something  of  the  same 
errand.  "His  face  was  set  as  if  he  would  go  up 
to  Jerusalem." 

By  this  time  I   think  you  have   a  shadow 


SERMONS  73 


of  my  thought.  In  all  these  months  Jesus  is 
very  busy.  Crowds  follow  him,  and  crowds 
throng  him  everywhere.  He  neglects  nothing 
as  he  moves  along.  He  listens  to  every  call, 
he  responds  to  every  need.  He  is  keenly  sen- 
sitive to  every  condition.  His  instincts  seem 
to  lead  him  where  sorrow  is,  and  he  never 
avoids  or  evades  a  claim.  He  is  never  in  a 
hurry,  and  never  seems  anxious  to  get  away. 
But  all  this  while  there  is  another  call  and 
another  claim.  His  mind  is  on  another  thought. 
He  hears  every  call  of  the  hour,  and  meets 
every  claim  of  the  place,  but  all  the  while  a 
supreme  claim  overshadows  all  these  local  and 
passing  calls.  His  face  is  set  towards  Jerusa- 
lem. He  is  looking  towards  the  final  consum- 
mation. The  purpose  for  which  he  came  is  the 
end  to  which  he  continually  moves.  Over  the 
diversions  of  his  daily  life  there  hangs  the 
shadow  of  his  great  sacrifice.  To  look  at  him 
you  would  think  he  lived  for  those  he  lived 
with.  But  listen  to  his  silent  thought  and 
you  find  he  is  looking  to  the  far-off  shadow 
of  destiny  and  service.  Without  seeming  in 
haste,  or  passing  any  claim  or  call,  he  all  the 
while  has  this  high  call  and  higher  claim  in  his 
ear  and  on  his  heart.  Without  neglecting  the 
one,  he  does  not  lose  sight  of  the  other.  He  is 
in  no  haste  to  leave  the  widow  of  Nain  until 


74  SERMONS 


her  son  is  restored,  and  her  sorrow  completely 
assuaged.  But  next  day  we  find  him  farther 
on.  The  disputes  of  the  disciples  are  as  care- 
fully adjusted  as  if  he  and  they  were  to  con- 
tinue in  the  relation  they  now  find  them- 
selves. But  he  immediately  passes  on  from 
them  to  new  scenes  which  require  new  adjust- 
ments. He  does  thoroughly  the  work  of 
today,  but  ever  has  in  mind  the  larger  work 
of  tomorrow.  As  he  comes  again  among  his 
old  friends  in  Judea,  social  attentions  are 
pressed  upon  him.  He  accepts  them  cheer- 
fully and  heartily,  but  after  dinner  goes  the 
way  he  was  facing.  He  entered  the  house  of 
Zacchaeus  on  the  special  mission  he  had  in 
mind.  He  accomplished  his  mission,  and  left 
Zacchaeus  a  happy  man  in  a  happy  home.  He 
does  not  wait  to  find  others  who  might  profit 
by  similar  attentions,  but  rejoins  the  crowds 
of  pilgrims  and  continues  on  towards  Jerusa- 
lem and  destiny.  As  they  go  out  of  Jericho 
he  hears  the  cry  of  two  blind  men,  "Jesus, 
thou  Son  of  David,  have  mercy  on  us,  that  we 
may  receive  our  sight."  They  are  near  Jeru- 
salem now,  and  the  crowds  are  eager  to  press 
on.  The  disciples  are  impatient,  and  try  to 
suppress  these  disturbers  of  their  journey.  But 
Jesus  is  in  no  hurry.  No  time  to  loiter,  but 
always  time  to  help  the  needy.     But  when  he 


SERMONS  75 


has  healed  them  and  sent  them  away,  then  he 
and  the  multitude  move  on  again. 

Soon  after  he  came  to  Bethany,  the  home  of 
Mary  and  Martha.  Here  was  Lazarus  whom 
he  had  raised  from  the  dead.  Here  was  Mary 
who  listened,  and  Martha  who  served.  Here 
he  might  remain  and  rest  as  one  would  at  home. 
Here  a  reception  was  arranged  for  him  and  a 
supper.  Here  was  an  anointing  with  costly 
oil,  as  if  he  had  been  a  prince.  Here  were  all 
the  love,  and  honor  and  attention  he  could 
ask  for.  He  might  have  stayed  here  for  weeks, 
and  postponed  the  day  of  darkness  and  sacri- 
fice. Here  he  might  steady  his  nerves  and 
recruit  his  strength. 

He  accepted  their  attentions  thankfully;  he 
enjoyed  their  supper  and  social  converse;  he 
told  them  this  would  be  remembered  to  their 
honor  as  long  as  his  gospel  should  be  pro- 
claimed on  the  earth.  He  was  not  indifferent, 
he  was  not  in  haste.  Plenty  of  time  for  hos- 
pitality. But  the  old  thought  was  not  sup- 
pressed. His  face  was  still  set  as  if  he  would 
go  up  to  Jerusalem.  The  next  morning  he 
moved  with  the  moving  crowds,  as  they  has- 
tened along  the  sides  of  the  Mount  of  Olives, 
towards  the  Holy  City.  Now  there  appeared 
a  new  diversion,  and  a  new  temptation.  His 
company  got  the  idea  somehow  that  he  was 


76  SERMONS 

going  to  the  temple  to  be  crowned  King  of  the 
Jews.  The  children  were  especially  eager  in 
their  loyalty  and  demonstration.  He  might 
have  joined  the  demonstration  and  intensified 
enthusiasm.  He  might  have  made  a  marked 
occasion  and  a  serious  crisis.  But  he  treated 
it  discreetly.  He  neither  rejected  it  nor  joined 
it.  He  received  it  as  an  expression  of  genuine 
friendship  and  loyal  enthusiasm.  He  did  not 
make  the  mistake  of  accepting  popular  excite- 
ment for  popular  support,  nor  treating  the 
love  of  his  friends  as  a  trifling  matter.  In  a 
higher  sense  than  Caesar,  he  was  already  a 
King,  and  yet  he  did  not  come  in  competition 
with  Caesar  or  Pilate.  In  an  hour  the  incident 
had  passed  and  Jesus  was  where  his  thought 
had  been  all  these  months  while  his  face  had 
been  set  towards  Jerusalem.  Steadily  as  the 
months  had  passed  he  had  pressed  on  to  his 
purpose. 

He  is  like  a  great  river  which  rolls  on  to  the 
great  sea.  It  does  not  stay  in  its  course,  and 
yet  its  banks  are  not  neglected.  There  is 
not  a  garden  left  unwatered;  there  is  not  a 
tree  left  unfed.  Every  field  is  filtered;  every 
flowery  nook  is  found.  Everything  doth  live 
wheresoever  the  river  cometh.  It  never  loi- 
ters beyond  its  time.  It  stays  not  for  head- 
land or  rock,  for  sand-bar  or  dyke.     Having 


SERMONS  77 


enriched  the  whole  country  from  the  fountain 
to  the  mouth,  it  comes  at  last  to  the  sea,  bearing 
the  wealth  it  has  carried  on  its  bosom.  So 
Jesus  never  failed  to  bless  the  life  he  touched 
today,  and  never  failed  to  reach  the  point  he 
set  for  tomorrow.  And  here  he  is  now  wind- 
ing his  way  around  Olivet,  and  coming  to 
his  destination  amid  palm  branches  and  the 
songs  of  children. 

He  never  forgot  the  thing  he  was  aiming  at. 
The  need  he  was  interested  in  did  not  detain 
him;  the  cry  to  which  he  listened  did  not  divert 
him.  He  had  that  remarkable  poise  which  could 
enjoy  the  journey  and  yet  keep  the  destination 
continually  in  mind.  He  never  neglected  the 
present  nor  forgot  the  future.  The  duties  of 
today  never  obscured  the  destiny  of  tomorrow. 

Now  he  is  among  the  shouts  and  palms  of 
Olivet.  We  call  it  Palm  Sunday  and  think  of 
it  as  something  final.  But  it  is  only  one  of  the 
way-marks,  like  the  dinner  with  Zacchaeus, — 
the  shoutings  at  Jericho — the  supper  at  Beth- 
any. He  enjoyed  them  as  he  passed  them, 
but  he  came  on  to  what  he  had  planned.  He 
verified  the  words  of  the  poet: 

"Not  enjoyment,  and  not  sorrow 

Is  our  destined  end  and  way, 

But  to  live  that  each  tomorrow 

Find  us  farther  than  today." 


78  SERMONS 


He  was  not  as  the  ambitious  youth  who 
pressed  on  to  the  highest  point  and  achieved 
an  empty  triumph;  who,  bearing  his  flag  with 
its  strange  device,  "Excelsior,"  stopped  not 
for  home  nor  friendship,  and  Hstened  not  to 
the  cry  of  child,  or  call  of  service;  who  turned 
away  from  the  comforts  of  home  and  friend 
till  he  planted  his  banner  on  the  cheerless  sum- 
mit. Jesus  took  in  the  life  as  he  came  along, 
and  came  to  the  end  on  which  his  face  was  set 
when  he  had  reached  his  destination. 

A  great  deal  is  said  in  the  Bible  about  fixed 
epochs.  God  has  his  set  times.  Providence 
moves  forward  to  the  beat  of  the  centuries. 
There  is  a  sort  of  schedule  for  the  progress  of 
history,  and  the  orderly  movements  of  the 
Kingdom.  Parallel  lines  of  history  are  timed 
to  each  other.  The  poets  have  a  fancy  that  the 
Star  of  Bethlehem  was  a  regular  conjunction 
of  planets,  and  that  the  history  of  Jesus  was 
timed  to  that  of  the  stars.  Thus  the  three 
Wise-men  met  as  by  appointment  and  came 
together  to  Bethlehem.  This  is  a  poetic  fancy, 
but  back  of  it  there  is  historic  reality  as  sur- 
prising as  this.  When  Jesus  came  there  was 
apparently  a  feeling  of  expectancy,  as  if  some 
new  order  was  about  to  be  introduced.  The 
Magi  were  watching  for  it;  Simeon  and  Anna 
were  waiting  their  time  in  the  temple;  Herod 


SERMONS  79 


even  was  disturbed  by  a  rumor.  In  line  with 
all  this,  we  read  of  the  fullness  of  time.  The 
material  kingdom,  the  order  of  history,  the 
expectations  of  men,  were  all  set  to  the  same 
hour.  Jesus  came  as  the  stars  come,  as  the 
sunrise  returns  at  its  appointed  time,  as  history 
moves  to  its  proper  pulsation.  It  was  the 
time  of  which  the  morning  sang  at  creation's 
dawn;  of  which  the  holy  prophets  spake;  of 
which  the  providence  of  God  made  note. 
Of  the  chosen  saints  the  poet  sings: 

"At  the  time  appointed, 
He  sends  his  angel  down, 
To  bear  his  own  anointed 

Up  to  their  throne  and  crown." 

Into  this  order  Jesus  came  and  lived  his  won- 
derful life.  He  touched  every  living  interest; 
he  heard  every  cry  of  need;  he  gave  time  to 
every  sorrow  on  his  way.  Yet  when  the  full- 
ness of  time  was  come  he  was  at  his  place. 
During  all  this  gentle  and  timely  service,  his 
face  was  set  to  the  final  consummation. 

And  now  he  has  come  to  the  Mount  of 
Olives.  He  is  passing  up  its  sides.  They 
think  the  day  of  coronation  has  come,  and  they 
cut  down  palm  branches,  and  spread  garments 
in  the  way  as  they  would  for  the  crown  prince; 
they  shout  "Hosanna!  Hosanna!"  To  him 
it  was  a  passing  incident.     He  was  on  his  way 


8o  SERMONS 


to  where  his  face  had  been  set.  He  appeared 
in  the  temple  and  began  his  work.  It  did  not 
take  long  to  develop  the  enemy.  As  he  met 
the  questions,  and  solved  their  plots,  the  con- 
spiracy grew  stronger,  and  the  garden  and  the 
Judgment  Hall  and  the  cross  followed  close. 
Towards  this  consummation  of  sacrifice  and 
sorrow  his  face  had  been  set  these  many 
months,  and  to  it  he  had  steadily  moved 
from  Galilee  to  the  Jordan,  from  the  Jordan 
to  Jerusalem,  from  Jerusalem  to  Calvary. 
Through  all  the  gentle  scenes,  through  all 
the  timely  teaching,  through  the  kindly  deeds 
he  has  come  without  divergence,  he  has  come 
to  this  final  scene,  and  can  now  say,  "I  have 
finished  the  work  thou  gavest  me  to  do.  And 
now  I  come  to  thee." 

"From  Heaven  he  came;  of  Heaven  he 
spake,  to  Heaven  he  led  his  followers!"  He 
taught  in  Capernaum  and  they  listened;  he 
called  the  fishers  of  Galilee  and  they  followed ; 
he  rested  in  Bethany,  and  his  friends  gathered 
about  him;  he  hastened  up  Olivet  and  they 
followed  him  with  palms  and  songs.  The 
strong  thought  that  was  on  his  heart  all  these 
months  made  him  a  leader  of  men  wherever 
he  went.  Whatever  at  the  moment  he  was 
doing,  his  eye  was  on  the  distant  goal  that  all 
the  while  he  had  respect  to.     He  was  going 


SERMONS  8i 


to  the  cross  and  the  cross  was  the  way  to  the 
crown.  He  was  on  his  way  to  death  but  death 
was  the  gateway  of  Hfe.  He  each  day  did  the 
work  he  came  to  and  each  day's  work  led  to 
the  next.  And  this  brought  him  at  last  to 
the  consummation  on  which  he  had  all  the 
while  set  his  face.  Every  day's  service  was 
like  a  day's  march.  Day  after  day  brought  him 
along  to  Jordan  and  Jericho,  to  Bethany  and 
Olivet.  All  the  way  along  he  had  taught 
the  people;  all  the  way  along  he  had  healed 
the  sick ;  all  the  way  along  he  had  proclaimed  the 
Kingdom  of  God.  And  now  he  was  amid  the 
palms  and  Hosannas.  The  priests  and  elders 
frowned;  the  disciples  murmured;  but  the 
children  shouted.  And  he  rode  on  in  calm 
consciousness  and  said  to  those  who  protested, 
"If  these  should  hold  their  peace,  the  very 
rocks  would  cry  out."  A  worthy  occasion 
which  demands  expression  will  always  find 
a  tongue. 

Jesus  never  lost  sight  of  the  end,  and  never 
failed  in  the  duty  of  the  hour.  He  never 
neglected  a  crying  child  because  he  was  think- 
ing of  how  the  children  would  shout  at  Olivet. 
He  never  left  a  sick  man  by  the  wayside 
because  the  feast  at  Bethany  was  to  be  tomor- 
row night.     He  met  the  need  of   today    and 


82  SERMONS 


thereby  reached  the  appointed  place  for  tomor- 
row's service.     So  it  may  be  to  us. 

We  may  "Each  day  pitch  our  moving  tent, 
A  day's  march  nearer  home."  You  will  all 
come  to  the  end  you  keep  in  view.  You  will 
come  to  that  towards  which  your  face  is  set. 
You  may  not  come  rapidly,  but  you  will  come 
surely.  Each  day  will  bring  you  nearer.  It 
is  the  steady  race  which  wins  the  crown.  It 
is  the  one  who  endures  to  the  end.  It  is  he 
who  runs  so  as  to  obtain.  It  is  to  him  that 
overcomes  to  whom  God  giveth  a  crown. 


VII 
"hold  fast  the  profession  of  your  faith" 

Hebrews  lo:  23 

T  T  would  make  this  passage  clearer  to  render 
"*■  it,  "Hold  fast  the  faith  you  have  pro- 
fessed." The  author  is  writing  to  the  Chris- 
tian disciples  who  are  scattered  abroad.  They 
have  suffered  persecutions  and  losses  on  account 
of  their  faith.  They  were  often  well-nigh  dis- 
couraged, and  almost  ready  to  abandon  their 
faith.  It  cost  something  to  be  a  Christian  in 
that  age.  It  cut  a  man  off  from  worldly  ad- 
vantages and  exposed  him  to  great  annoyances. 
It  shut  him  out  from  all  his  old  associations; 
it  excluded  him  from  all  profitable  employ- 
ments, and  it  cut  him  off  from  all  social  recog- 
nition and  political  preferment.  If  he  had 
property,  it  would  be  injured  and  perhaps 
broken  up.  At  this  particular  time  the  Chris- 
tians were  suffering  even  severer  trials,  for  they 
were  being  driven  from  their  houses,  perse- 
cuted and  tortured,  and  some  of  them  had 
suffered  death. 

This  epistle  was  written  to  keep  these  perse- 
cuted disciples  in  heart,  and  to  encourage 
them    to    fidelity    and    perseverance.     "Hold 

83 


84  SERMONS 


fast  the  profession  of  your  faith."  Hold  fast 
the  faith  you  have  professed.  They  had  pro- 
fessed Jesus  and  had  taken  him  as  their  por- 
tion. The  epistle  opens  by  showing  whom  it 
was  they  had  believed.  It  was  Jesus,  the 
express  image  of  God,  the  maker  of  the  world. 
He  was  above  the  angels,  for  the  angels  must 
worship  him.  He  was  before  Moses,  for  Moses 
was  a  servant,  while  he  was  a  Son.  He  was 
before  Aaron,  for  Aaron's  priesthood  was  tem- 
porary while  His  priesthood  was  perpetual. 

Then  the  writer  goes  on  to  give  examples  of 
enduring  faith  from  among  the  Jewish  people, 
and  he  gives  us  that  wonderful  eleventh  chap- 
ter which  has  been  denominated  the  roll-call 
of  the  Bible  saints.  It  is  a  rapid  survey  of  the 
men  and  women  in  Jewish  history  who  had 
stood  in  their  places  moving  the  world  and  ad- 
vancing the  Kingdom.  These  all  suffered 
losses  and  met  disappointments,  encount- 
ered obstacles,  and  carried  burdens.  They  all 
worked  for  that  they  did  not  see,  and  strove 
for  that  they  did  not  attain.  But  though  they 
did  not  attain,  they  hastened  the  time  when  it 
should  be  attained.  The  good  time  coming 
never  came  to  them,  but  it  came  nearer  and 
it  came  sooner  than  it  could  have  come  with- 
out them.     They  helped  to  bring  it  on. 

Now  the  writer  applies  this  thought  to  their 


SERMONS  85 


condition.  Looking  at  these  principles  of 
truth,  looking  at  these  examples  of  fidelity — 
this  cloud  of  witnesses — keep  right  on  in  your 
course,  and  run  with  patience  the  race  set 
before  you,  looking  unto  Jesus,  the  Author  and 
Finisher  of  your  faith.  Hold  fast  the  faith 
you  have  professed.  If  you  must  give  up 
everything  for  your  faith,  see  to  it  that  you  do 
not  let  your  faith  slip  too.  Cling  to  that,  for 
it  is  worth  all  the  rest.  Think  of  all  there  is 
in  it  of  promise  and  inspiration  and  hope,  and 
take  the  full  comfort  of  it.  Trust  in  it,  for 
it  is  sure.  Rejoice  in  it,  for  it  is  full  of  promise. 
Be  satisfied  with  it,  for  it  is  sufficient. 

We  have  professed  our  faith  in  God  as  re- 
vealed in  Jesus  Christ.  God  is  the  foundation 
of  all.  Real  faith  in  God  supersedes  every- 
thing else.  If  we  trust  really  in  God,  our  trust 
will  never  waver  because  our  surroundings 
waver,  any  more  than  the  house  on  the  rock 
will  shake  when  the  floods  dash  about  it.  It 
rests  on  a  deeper  foundation  than  the  circum- 
stances of  our  life.  It  keeps  us  steady  when 
circumstances  change.  Its  value  is  greater 
when  other  things  give  way.  It  would  not  be 
worth  much  if  it  failed  us  when  other  things 
fail.  We  do  not  doubt  the  sun  when  it  goes 
behind  a  cloud,  or  sinks  beneath  the  horizon 
at  night.     It  would  be  a  dreadful  world  to  live 


86  SERMONS 


in  if  we  did.  We  rest  quietly  at  night  because 
we  know  the  sun  is  coming  back  in  the  morn- 
ing. Friendship  was  made  for  the  dark  day, 
and  you  would  not  value  a  friend  who  failed 
you  when  trouble  came.  Faith  is  of  special 
worth  when  we  cannot  see,  and  when  we  can- 
not see  is  the  time  of  all  others  that  we  should 
cling  to  our  faith.  You  would  not  count  him 
a  very  wise  man  who  should  abandon  his  spar 
because  the  waves  were  so  high  and  land  so 
far.  That  is  the  very  time  he  needs  his  spar. 
You  would  not  count  him  wise  who  should  wear 
his  life-preserver  on  deck  on  a  sunny  after- 
noon, and  then  leave  it  below  when  the  storm 
came  and  he  must  take  to  the  deep  sea.  Yet 
that  is  just  the  way  many  Christians  regard 
their  faith.  They  make  much  of  it  when  all 
is  prosperous,  and  let  go  their  hold  when  adver- 
sity comes.  If  you  trust  God  only  while  He 
is  prospering  you,  your  faith  does  not  mean 
much  and  it  is  not  worth  much.  An  anchor 
is  not  worth  much  to  a  ship  if  the  cable  breaks 
when  the  strain  comes.  An  anchor  is  not  in- 
tended to  prevent  a  storm  or  calm  the  waves, 
but  it  is  intended  to  hold  the  ship.  It  is  not 
a  charm  to  still  the  seas,  but  a  cable  to  hold  the 
ship  when  a  storm  is  on  the  sea.  A  life-pre- 
server is  not  intended  to  keep  a  man  out  of 
the  water,  but  to  keep  him  afloat  when  he  is 


SERMONS  87 


in  the  water.  The  purpose  of  faith  is  not  to 
prevent  trials,  but  to  enable  a  man  to  bear 
them,  A  great  many  people  assume  that  the 
object  of  religion  is  to  give  a  man  an  easy  time — 
to  prosper  him  in  his  affairs — to  resolve  his 
perplexities — and  ward  off  his  trials.  We  hear 
the  remark  often  that  a  certain  man's  religion 
does  not  do  him  much  good.  He  does  not  pros- 
per any  better  than  his  godless  neighbors,  and  he 
has  as  many  losses  and  disappointments  and 
sorrows  as  his  unbelieving  friends.  Sometimes 
it  even  seems  as  if  a  good  man  is  singled  out 
for  tribulation  and  disaster.  David  himself 
once  felt  this  way.  "These  are  the  ungodly 
who  prosper  in  the  land.  They  increase  in 
riches."  Did  you  ever  hear  a  remark  like 
that  in  this  late  day? 

But  mistakes  show  the  real  significance  of 
faith.  The  primal  object  of  faith  is  to  make 
a  man  strong.  It  is  not  to  give  a  man  an  easy 
time,  but  to  enable  him  to  bear  a  rough  time. 
It  is  not  primarily  to  give  a  man  prosperity, 
but  to  enable  him  to  bear  any  fortune  and  profit 
by  it.  It  is  not  to  keep  a  man  out  of  the  con- 
flict, but  to  enable  him  to  "bear  hardness  as 
a  good  soldier."  The  question  is  not  as  to 
a  man's  trials,  but  as  to  the  result  of  them. 
The  vital  question  is,  how  does  he  come  out  of 
them?     It  is  not  a  point  with  the  gold  ore  how 


SERMONS 


hot  the  furnace  may  be,  but  how  does  it  come 
out  of  the  furnace?  Does  it  come  out  purified 
or  blackened?  Has  it  been  enriched  or  has  it 
been  ruined? 

When  we  recount  a  man's  experiences,  the 
vital  question  is,  how  did  he  bear  them?  How 
did  they  affect  him?  How  does  he  come  out 
of  them?  What  sort  of  man  did  they  leave 
him? 

We  cannot  interpret  our  lives  any  more  than 
we  can  forecast  them.  If  we  could  always 
know  what  they  mean,  and  where  they  are 
coming  to,  there  would  not  be  so  great  a  call 
for  faith.  But  the  larger  portion  of  our  life 
we  must  receive  on  trust.  We  can  see  goodness 
in  it  only  as  we  know  God  is  good.  We  pass 
under  clouds  through  which  no  light  shines, 
except  there  be  light  from  above.  The  glory 
of  our  faith  is  that  it  can  trust  where  it  cannot 
see.  It  is  not  art  to  trust  when  we  can  see, 
and  of  no  great  benefit,  either.  Ingersoll  says 
it  is  a  strange  thing  that  Jesus  would  cry  out 
when  on  the  Cross:  "My  God,  My  God,  why 
hast  thou  forsaken  me?"  But  I  have  often 
blessed  God  that  he  has  left  that  word  on  record. 
It  shows  that  Jesus  our  Saviour  went  down  to 
the  depths  of  human  experience,  as  we  must 
go.  For  every  man  has  known  something  of 
what    these    words   express.     Have    you    not 


SERMONS  89 


yourselves  been  where  that  thought  was  in 
your  heart,  even  if  those  words  did  not  come 
to  your  Hps?  Has  there  not  been  a  time  when 
it  seemed  as  if  your  last  desire  had  been 
denied — your  last  request  refused?  The  cup 
you  prayed  might  pass  has  been  forced  to  your 
lips;  the  heavens  have  seemed  brass  above  you, 
and  the  earth  has  seemed  a  desert  beneath  you. 
You  have  gone  out  into  a  night  that  had  no 
stars,  and  you  waited  for  a  morning  that 
brought  no  sun.  In  such  an  hour,  the  heart 
cried  out,  "though  the  lips  moved  not:"  "My 
God,  My  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me?" 
At  such  a  time  it  has  been  an  unspeakable 
relief  to  remember  that  he  whom  God  surely 
loved  went  down  into  the  same  depths  and 
uttered  the  same  cry.  It  is  not  a  sign  that 
God  has  forsaken  us  because  the  last  extremity 
is  permitted  to  come.  What  seems  the  extrem- 
ity to  us  is  not  so  to  God. 

Many  years  ago  we  were  reading  out  of  the 
Gospels  in  the  course  of  our  morning  worship. 
We  had  come  to  the  account  of  the  Cruci- 
fixion. As  we  read,  the  story  seemed  unsually 
vivid.  We  read  how  Jesus  went  in  silence 
from  Pilate's  judgment  hall  to  Calvary,  bear- 
ing his  cross  till  he  could  bear  it  no  longer  and 
then  another  must  bear  it  for  him.  We  read 
how  the  soldiers  took  him  and  nailed  him  to 


90  SERMONS 


the  cruel  cross,  casting  lots  for  his  clothes;  how 
the  multitude  gathered  about  him  as  he  hung 
on  the  cross,  and  mocked  him.  One  said: 
"Let  the  King  of  Israel  come  down  from  the 
cross,  and  we  will  believe  him.  Thou  that  de- 
stroyest  the  temple  and  in  three  days  buildest 
it  again,  save  thyself."  Another  replied:  "He 
saved  others,  himself  he  cannot  save."  And 
another  said:  "He  trusted  in  God,  let  God 
deliver  him  now,  if  he  wants  him."  Another, 
more  bold  still,  shouted  to  the  sufferer:  "If 
thou  be  the  Son  of  God,  come  down  from  the 
cross."  Just  before  me  sat  our  daughter,  then 
a  child,  following  the  story  with  intense  inter- 
est and  growing  indignation.  I  could  see  she 
was  mightily  moved.  As  I  came  to  these 
words,  "If  thou  be  the  Son  of  God,  come  down 
from  the  cross,"  she  could  contain  herself  no 
longer,  and  spoke  out  in  her  impulsive  way, 
"Why  didn't  he  come  down?"  Yes,  why  didn't 
he  come  down?  I  presume  we  have  all  asked 
that  question  many  and  many  a  time.  Why 
didn't  he  come  down  and  confront  His  foes 
then  and  there?  Why  didn't  he  come  down 
and  end  all  controversy  as  to  his  divine  au- 
thority and  power?  Why  didn't  he  come  down? 
No  answer.  Christ  never  comes  down  from 
the  cross,  either  in  his  own  person  or  in  the 
person  of  his  disciples.     They  are  all  made  to 


SERMONS  91 


bear  until  "It  is  finished."  They  see  not  the 
promise  though  they  witness  a  good  report. 
"Not  accepting  deliverance"  is  the  testimony 
of  them  all,  and  it  is  the  testimony  of  common 
life  as  well.  Again  and  again  there  is  no  light- 
ening of  the  lot,  no  lifting  of  the  load,  no  turn- 
ing away  of  the  blow.  The  blow  comes — 
and  comes  hard,  too.  "Made  perfect  through 
suffering"  was  not  the  truth  alone  of  the  Cap- 
tain of  our  Salvation.  It  is  true  of  his  followers 
as  well.  His  people  bear  about  in  their  own 
bodies  the  dying  of  the  Lord.  How  the  noblest 
men  have  suffered  the  tide,  and  been  submerged 
at  the  last!  How  the  gentlest  spirits  have 
felt  the  grinding  of  a  hard  life  and  never  known 
a  respite!  How  the  most  beautiful  characters 
have  shown  out  of  the  darkest  experience! 
How  the  loveliest  have  borne  the  longest,  and 
not  at  eventide  could  there  be  said,  "There 
was  light." 

Some  years  ago  I  ran  across  a  verse  which 
very  vividly  expresses  this  idea.  It  was 
credited  to  some  unknown  English  poet.  I 
used  the  verse  in  an  article  which  was  quite 
extensively  copied.  Shortly  after,  I  received 
a  letter  from  Samuel  Hoyt,  of  Amesbury, 
Massachusetts,  a  life-long  friend  of  Whittier, 
Parton,  and  other  well  known  poets.  He  said 
the  verse  was  by  Helen  Hunt  Jackson.     He 


92  SERMONS 


had  it  in  his  scrap-book  and  would  send  me  a 
copy  of  the  entire  poem,  which  I  have  never 
seen  anywhere  else.  Only  that  one  verse, 
however,  illustrates  my  thought. 

"Is  it  true,  O  Christ  in  Heaven, 

That  the  purest  suffer  most? 
And  the  strongest  wander  farthest 

And  most  helplessly  are  lost? 
Is  the  mark  of  rank  in  nature 

But  capacity  for  pain? 
Does  the  anguish  of  the  singer 

Make  the  sweetness  of  the  strain?" 

When  a  good  man  is  in  trouble,  we  often 
turn  upon  him  and  ask,  "What  good  does  his 
faith  do  him  now^?  "  The  foes  of  David  caught 
this  thought  and  taunted  him  with  it.  "As 
with  a  sword  in  my  bones  mine  enemies  re- 
proach me  while  they  say  daily  unto  me, 
'Where  is  now  thy  God?'"  It  was  easy  to 
talk  of  God  in  prosperous  times — where  is  he 
now  you  are  in  trouble?  It  was  well  enough  to 
boast  of  God  when  everything  went  right. 
But  where  is  he  now  everything  is  in  confusion, 
and  all  things  seem  to  turn  against  you?  It 
was  easy  enough  to  meditate  upon  his  watch- 
fulness and  care  when  your  flocks  were  safely 
feeding  in  the  green  pastures  of  Judea,  or  ly- 
ing down  by  the  still  waters  of  Bethlehem. 
But  where  was  he  when  the  lion  and  the  bear 
came  down  upon  the  sheep?     It  was  all  very 


SERMONS  93 


well  to  talk  of  God  when  you  stood  upon  the 
heights,  safely  viewing  the  movements  of  the 
hostile  armies  as  they  met  in  battle.  But 
how  was  it  when  the  giant  came  striding 
towards  you  over  the  plains  with  his  spear  like 
a  weaver's  beam?  It  was  very  sweet  and 
pretty  to  hear  you  talk  of  faith  in  God  when 
you  came  from  the  victory  and  the  maidens 
met  you  singing,  "Saul  has  slain  his  thousands 
and  David  his  ten  thousands."  But  how  was 
it  when  Saul's  jealousy  drove  you  from  his 
house?  It  was  very  beautiful  to  sing  Jeho- 
vah's praises  when  you  were  playing  upon 
your  loved  harp  and  charming  your  monarch 
and  his  court  in  the  palace  of  the  king.  But 
how  was  it  when  the  king's  countenance  was 
changed  towards  you  and  you  were  driven  to 
the  mountains  to  hide  in  caves  and  thickets, 
when  a  price  was  set  upon  your  head  and  you 
were  hunted  like  a  wild  beast  in  the  woods? 
Where  now  is  thy  God?  What  is  he  doing 
for  you  now?  David  himself  is  almost  puzzled 
for  an  answer.  "Like  a  sword  in  my  bones 
was  their  reproach."  "My  feet  had  well-nigh 
slipped."  Not  till  he  came  into  the  sanctuary 
of  God,  into  the  Divine  center  of  vision,  did 
he  see  how  it  was.  Then  it  was  all  plain.  The 
Lord  did  not  protect  him  from  the  inroad  of 
the  lion  and  the  bear,  but  he  nerved  his  arm 


94  SERMONS 


to  beat  them  back.  He  did  not  shelter  him 
in  some  secluded  valley  where  the  giant  could 
not  find  him,  but  he  steadied  his  hand  as  he 
slung  the  stone  and  brought  the  giant  down 
and  saved  the  armies  of  Israel  and  the  land 
of  his  fathers.  He  did  not  hide  him  in  the  cleft 
of  some  rock  and  feed  him  till  Saul  had  ceased 
his  persecution,  but  he  led  him  through  an 
experience  which  quickened  his  perceptions 
and  developed  his  ingenuity,  and  so  prepared 
him  for  leadership  in  the  after  years.  How 
much  of  David's  wonderful  success  in  war,  in 
diplomacy  and  in  statesmanship,  was  the  result 
of  the  wit  quickened  by  the  straits  and  emer- 
gencies of  his  early  life,  we  may  never  know. 
But  we  may  be  sure  of  this  much  at  least; 
David  would  never  have  been  the  man  he  was 
and  never  the  king  he  was,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  discipline  of  those  early  years,  which 
at  the  time  so  severely  tried  him.  He  after- 
wards saw  something  of  what  God  had  done 
for  him.  When  again  they  asked  him,  "Where 
is  now  thy  God?"  he  could  say:  "Surely  good- 
ness and  mercy  have  followed  me  all  the  days 
of  my  life  and  I  will  dwell  in  the  house  of  the 
Lord  (or,  under  the  care  of  the  Lord)  forever." 
The  ship  sails  out  proudly  from  port  and 
runs  delightfully  for  many  days.  At  last  a 
storm  comes  up  and  sun  and  stars  are  not  seen. 


SERMONS  95 


The  sails  are  torn  from  the  masts ;  the  bulwarks 
are  swept  away;  and  the  waves  roll  over  the 
deck.  Everybody  is  drenched  and  dreary  and 
cold,  and  hope  is  almost  gone.  With  all  that 
helm  and  sail  can  do  the  ship  can  only  lie  to 
and  drift  like  a  water-soaked  log.  Now  they 
taunt  the  captain  who  has  boasted  so  much 
of  his  ship.  They  ask,  in  derision,  "What  do 
you  say  for  your  ship  now?"  As  confident  as 
ever,  he  replies,  "She  was  built  for  a  time  like 
this.^  Other  ships  may  outdo  her  in  the  calm, 
or  outsail  her  before  a  fair  breeze,  but  she  was 
built  strong  and  wisely  planned,  so  that  when 
all  else  fails  and  nothing  more  can  be  done,  she 
can  lie  to  and  drift  and  wait  till  the  storm  is 
past.  Then  she  can  bring  her  crew  and  pas- 
sengers home  to  their  desired  haven.  She 
was  not  made  to  escape  the  tempest,  but  to  en- 
dure it  and  live  through  it." 

Our  faith  should  be  for  the  time  that  tests 
it.  However  wild  the  storm,  we  trust  the  God 
who  rules  the  storm.  No  matter  how  dark 
and  long  the  night,  we  trust  the  God  of  the 
morning.  As  we  stand  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  it  may  not  add  a  single  star  to  the  sky, 
or  throw  a  single  ray  of  light  on  our  path,  but 
we  endure  the  darkness,  and  wait  with  vastly 
greater  patience  and  courage  when  we  know 
that  the  sun  will  rise  again  at  six  o'clock  in  the 


96  SERMONS 


morning.  As  we  stand  in  the  middle  of  the 
winter  and  the  air  is  full  of  frost,  and  the  ground 
is  buried  in  snow,  and  the  waters  of  lake  and 
river  are  locked  in  ice,  it  may  not  put  a  single 
leaf  on  the  tree,  or  a  single  blade  of  grass  on 
the  plain,  or  a  single  flower  on  the  hillside  but 
it  makes  the  winter  vastly  more  endurable  and 
our  lives  vastly  more  cheerful  to  know  that  on 
the  2 1  St  of  March  the  sun  will  return  to  this 
northern  hemisphere  and  begin  to  warm  the 
earth  for  another  season.  "Roses  will  -come 
again,"  and  "It  will  be  summer  by-and-by." 
Faith  may  not  banish  our  difficulties,  but  it 
gives  meaning  to  the  conflict  by  which  we  over- 
come them.  It  does  not  lift  our  loads  for  us, 
but  we  are  made  strong  to  carry  them.  It 
does  not  restore  our  losses,  or  fill  our  loneliness, 
or  dry  our  tears;  but  losses  and  loneliness  and 
tears  become  less  desolate  when  we  know  that 
"Though  weeping  may  endure  for  a  night,  joy 
cometh  in  the  morning."  And  that  "He  that 
goeth  forth  and  weepeth,  bearing  precious  seed, 
shall  doubtless  come  again  with  rejoicing,  bear- 
ing his  sheaves  with  him."  It  may  not  steady 
the  earth  when  it  quakes,  but  it  steadies  our 
souls  amid  the  rocking  when  we  know  that 
there  are  things  which  cannot  be  shaken,  and 
that  we  receive  a  kingdom  which  cannot  be 
moved. 


VIII 
"the  days  of  our  years" 

Psalm  90  :  10 

rr^HE  ending  of  the  year  is  always  an  epoch 
^  in  our  lives.  No  matter  how  lightly 
we  regard  it,  we  cannot  pass  it  without  some- 
thing of  a  start.  It  is  a  milestone  on  the  road 
which  we  have  never  passed  before  and  shall 
never  pass  again.  We  carry  with  us  what  we 
have  gathered,  and  what  we  have  left  is  beyond 
our  reach.  The  days  of  our  years  may  be 
ever  so  full  and  yet  we  may  go  on  empty ;  they 
may  be  ever  so  rich,  and  yet  we  go  from  them 
poor.  But  empty  or  poor  though  we  may  be, 
we  cannot  go  back  to  gather  what  we  have 
left  behind.  It  was  ours  once  but  it  is  ours 
no  more.  If  we  redeem  the  time  it  will  enrich 
us,  if  we  neglect  our  opportunity  we  go  on 
with  pauperized  lives.  When  the  door  is 
open,  no  man  may  shut  it  against  us;  when  the 
door  is  shut,  no  man  may  open  it  for  us. 

The  "Days  of  Our  Years"  have  passed  very 
gently.  They  made  no  sound  as  they  went 
by.  But  they  changed  the  face  of  all  the 
things  they  touched.  They  fell  like  snow- 
flakes,  silent  and  soft,  but  like  the  snowflakes 
7  97 


98  SERMONS 


they  change  the  face  of  all  the  earth.  Every 
year  gives  another  touch,  and  before  we  note 
what  is  going  on,  the  whole  scene  is  changed. 
Time  moves  on  without  a  sound,  building  up 
the  limbs  of  childhood,  strengthening  the 
arms  of  manhood,  and  fulfilling  the  counsels 
of  manhood.  So  quietly  have  they  borne  us 
along  that  we  were  hardly  aware  of  the  mov- 
ing, yet  here  we  are  looking  back  over  the  long 
line  of  our  journey.  As  we  note  the  shifting 
scene  it  seems  almost  like  a  dream.  Like 
the  woman  in  the  nursery  rhyme,  we  are 
inclined  to  cry,  "Surely  it  is  not  I."  Others 
may  see  no  romance  in  our  lives.  But  there 
is  no  romance  like  that  of  a  man's  experience. 
In  fact  there  is  no  other  romance.  The  heart 
feels  its  own  as  none  else  can  feel  it.  "The 
heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness,  and  a 
stranger  intermeddleth  not  with  its  joy."  We 
are  amused  at  the  glow  with  which  men  tell  of 
the  commonplace  incidents  of  their  lives.  But 
we  do  not  realize  the  personal  touch  which 
makes  commonplace  things  seem  vital.  The 
average  talker  is  dreary,  because  he  does  not 
realize  that  what  has  stirred  him  may  be  a 
matter  of  indifference  to  another.  A  mother 
telling  of  the  words  and  doings  of  her  child, 
seems  dismal,  if  not  amusing  to  us.  But  it 
is  all  alive   to  her.     There   is  nothing  really 


SERMONS  99 


commonplace    to   a   man   which    touches   his 
own  Hfe. 

"A  commonplace  life,  we  say  and  we  sigh, 

But  why  do  we  sigh  as  we  say? 
A  commonplace  sun  in  a  commonplace  sky 

Maketh  the  commonplace  day; 
The  moon  and  the  stars  are  commonplace  things; 

And  the  flowers  that  bloom,  and  the  birds  that  sing; 
But  dark  were  the  world,  and  sad  our  lot, 

If  the  flowers  failed,  and  the  sun  shone  not. 
But  God  who  studies  each  separate  soul. 

Out  of  commonplace  things  makes  the  beautiful  whole." 

What  seems  commonplace  to  us  may  be 
romance  to  those  who  are  in  it.  We  stand 
mute  sometimes  beside  an  open  grave.  A 
grief  has  touched  another  which  we  do  not 
feel.  But  when  we  stand  there  with  a  grief 
of  our  own,  we  know  what  the  romance  of 
human  life  can  mean.  The  shadows  refuse 
to  rise,  and  the  wounds  refuse  to  heal.  One 
of  my  earliest  recollections  is  that  of  standing 
by  the  grave  of  a  little  brother.  I  was  too 
young  to  realize  the  import  of  the  scene,  and 
my  most  vivid  remembrance  is  of  wondering 
why  my  mother  wept  and  sobbed  so.  Thus 
we  often  look  on  a  sorrow  whose  point  we  do 
not  feel.  We  do  not  see  what  sharpens  the 
thorn  for  another's  flesh. 

It  is  the  days  of  our  years  which  slip  away 
from  us  so  easily.     W'e  should  be  more  choice 


100  SERMONS 


of  the  years.  But  the  days  slip  away  unnoticed 
and  the  days  carry  the  years  with  them.  A 
lost  day  seems  a  trifle,  but  a  few  days  lost,  and 
the  year  is  gone. 

"Why  do  we  heap  huge  mounds  of  years 

Before  us  and  behind; 
And  scorn  the  little  days  that  pass, 

Like  angels  on  the  wind? 
Each  turning  round  a  small,  sweet  face 

As  beautiful,  as  near; 
Because  it  is  so  small  a  face 

We  do  not  see  it  clear. 
And  so  it  turns  from  us  and  goes 

Away  in  sad  disdain; 
Though  we  would  give  our  lives  for  it, 

It  never  comes  again." 

So  each  day  goes — used  or  unused — well 
spent  or  ill  spent — redeemed  or  wasted — but 
however  they  are  spent  they  go  into  the  irrepar- 
able past. 

"The  days  of  our  years"  have  been  busy 
years.  They  have  moved  very  quietly,  but 
they  have  wrought  wonders  in  their  noiseless 
flight.  As  they  passed  we  paid  little  heed,  but 
as  we  look  back  how  changed  the  prospect 
is.  One  character  at  a  time  passed  off  and  one 
character  at  a  time  came  on.  But  how  a  few 
years  have  changed  the  grouping  around  us. 
Few  as  the  days  of  our  years  have  been,  what 
marvelous  transformations  they  have  wrought. 


SERMONS  loi 


They  seemed  trifles  to  those  who  looked  on, 
but  they  meant  everything  to  those  involved. 
We  have  seen  homes  gathered  and  homes 
broken;  we  have  seen  joyful  hearts  made  sad 
and  sad  hearts  made  joyful;  we  have  seen  the 
solitary  set  in  families,  and  happy  homes  made 
desolate.  We  have  seen  fortunes  made  and 
fortunes  lost.  The  poor  boy  of  our  youth  is 
the  millionaire  of  today,  and  the  millionaire 
of  years  ago  is  today  wondering  where  his 
dinner  is  to  come  from.  We  have  seen  the 
lowly  lifted  and  the  mighty  cast  down;  we 
have  seen  the  unknown  come  into  prominence, 
and  the  well-known  pass  from  sight.  We  have 
seen  obscure  names  rise  like  a  star  in  the  heav- 
ens, and  we  have  seen  bright  names  clouded 
as  in  midnight  gloom.  Thus  they  have  come 
and  thus  they  have  gone,  and  thus  they  have 
been  coming  and  going  since  time  began. 

The  year  just  passing  has  been  like  the  rest. 
With  some  it  has  left  no  special  mark,  with 
others  it  has  burned  its  story  into  their  souls 
as  with  letters  of  fire.  With  some  it  will  be 
distinguished  for  its  brightness  which  will 
gild  all  the  years  ahead;  with  others  it  will 
carry  gloom  which  will  darken  the  days  to 
come.  The  voice  they  loved  most  to  hear  is 
no  longer  heard,  and  the  name  which  sounded 
sweetest  is  now  spoken  but  in  whispers  and 


102  SERMONS 


in  tears.     But  behind  every  cloud  there  is  a 
light,  and  none  need  sing  the  song  of  despair. 

"  My  soul  from  out  that  shadow  shall  be  lifted  Nevermore." 
"  For  taking  the  years  together  there  is  no  more  night  than 
day." 

From  every  shadow  the  soul  may  be  lifted 
into  the  light,  for  a  hope  lost  may  be  a  new 
hope  born. 

"And  the  glad  life  music,  now  heard  no  longer  here, 
Shall  come  again  to  greet  us — as  we  are  drawing  near." 

The  days  of  our  years  have  flitted  by  like 
shadows  on  the  hillside.  Joy  and  sorrow, 
light  and  darkness,  have  chased  each  other 
across  our  sky.  We  have  had  reason  "To 
bless  the  favoring  gale"  when  we  have  sailed 
through  unruffled  seas;  and  we  have  waited 
for  light  "  In  the  midnight  of  the  soul." 

Yet  the  days  of  our  years  have  left  some- 
thing with  us  as  they  flitted  by.     They  passed 

"Like  snowflakes  on  the  river, 
A  moment  white,  then  gone  forever." 

But  even  the  snowflakes  increase  the  volume 
of  the  stream.  The  days  of  our  years  are 
gone  before  we  realize  they  are  here,  but  they 
add  to  the  volume  of  our  life.  They  leave  with 
us  what  our  souls  absorb,  and  we  shall  be  in 
the  coming  days  what  our  past  has  made  us. 
We  may  accumulate  wisdom  and  knowledge 


SERMONS  103 


and  character,  and  be  enriched  in  life  or  we  may 
let  it  all  flow  by  us  while  we  remain  paupers  in 
our  spirits.  A  light  purse  is  as  nothing  com- 
pared with  an  impoverished  soul.  For  sunny 
memories  warm  the  life,  as  the  noonday  sun 
warms  the  night,  or  the  midsummer  is  remem- 
bered by  the  storms  of  midwinter. 

Everything  is  the  richer  for  what  it  has 
passed  through.  Even  a  song  means  more 
every  time  it  is  sung.  It  brings  to  us  memo- 
ries as  well  as  music,  and  it  strikes  other  chords 
besides  those  on  the  staff.  Words  grow  rich 
as  they  grow  old,  and  they  gather  force  as  they 
pass  from  lip  to  lip.  They  carry  something 
of  the  voice  and  tone  and  sentiment. 

How  the  old  haunts  and  the  old  paths  keep 
their  tales  for  us.  No  panorama  can  compare 
with  the  pictures  which  an  old  familiar  path 
can  show  us  in  a  walk  through  a  well  remem- 
bered wood.  All  along  we  see  faces  and  scenes 
and  hear  voices  and  songs  which  made  the 
years  of  long  ago  so  full  of  fresh  delight.  A 
company  invisible  to  the  rest  passes  before 
our  eyes,  and  voices  none  else  can  hear  fill  the 
air  for  us.  There  is  an  old  oak  tree  near  my 
father's  house  which  is  a  well  filled  story-book 
to  me.  There  we  boys  used  to  sit  and  plan 
for  the  future.  When  we  were  last  together, 
coming  from  all  over  the  land  we  sat  under  that 


104  SERMONS 


old  tree  all  afternoon,  and  arranged  for  the  old 
homestead  when  we  should  be  scattered  again. 
That  tree  seems  to  have  kept  a  diary  of  all  that 
passed  beneath  its  shade.  No  phonograph 
could  retain  the  faces  and  the  stories  and  the 
songs  as  the  branches  of  that  old  oak  retain 
and  repeat  them  to  those  who  have  the  key. 

"The  meadow  has  a  tale  for  us,  the  lane  its  storied  hour, 

Companions  in  each  hedge  we  hail,  a  friend  in  every  flower; 
Thus  half  forgotten  as  we  stand,  amid  the  haunts  of  youth. 
The  golden  past  asserts  for  us,  its  strength  of  love  and  truth. '' 

No  one  need  be  lonely  whose  past  has  en- 
riched him.  If  companions  are  lacking,  the 
friends  of  other  days  will  crowd  about  him,  and 
the  memories  of  other  days  will  flood  his 
thoughts  and  brighten  the  hours. 

And  gloom  remains  as  well  as  brightness. 
How  a  malicious  man  must  dread  to  be  alone. 
How  he  must  strive  to  shut  out  the  dark  and 
dismal  past.  Under  his  present  there  ever 
flows  a  dark  tide,  like  a  river  under  ground, — 
never  seen,  but  ever  flowing,  and  ever  heard. 

"There  is  a  river  drear  and  lone, 
That  flows  in  noiseless  undertone, 
Through  caverns  dark  and  gulfs  profound, 
A  silent  river  under  ground. 

"The  ghostly  boatmen  on  it  glide. 
The  ripples  lap  against  the  side. 
The  oars  dip  in,  but  still  no  sound, 
This  silent  river  under  ground." 


SERMONS  105 


And  results  remain  as  well  as  memories. 
"My  days  are  like  a  weaver's  shuttle,"  said 
Job.  Like  a  weaver's  shuttle  every  day  car- 
ries a  thread  which  becomes  a  part  of  the 
fabric,  and  a  part  of  the  pattern.  Once  woven 
no  man  may  unravel  the  threads,  or  change 
the  pattern.  But  God  puts  our  broken  threads 
together,  and  completes  our  unfinished  web. 

"Others  shall  sing  the  songs, 
Others  shall  right  the  wrong, 
Finish  what  we  begin; 
What  matters,  we  or  they; 
Ours  or  another's  day: 
So  the  right  word  be  said, 
And  life  the  sweeter  made." 


IX 

"l    WILL    REMEMBER    ALL    THE    WAY" 
Deut.  8:2 

WE  all  carry  a  picture  gallery  in  our  hearts. 
It  is  filled  with  pictures  of  the  scenes 
we  have  passed.  Pleasant  and  painful,  sunny 
and  shady,  peaceful  and  wild,  they  alternate 
all  along  the  course  of  our  lives.  Again  and 
again,  in  a  dreamy  mood,  we  "remember  all 
the  way."  Often  the  earliest  are  the  choicest, 
as  some  old  picture  of  centuries  ago  is  often 
the  prized  of  all  the  treasures  of  art. 

What  I  may  call  my  first  recollection  is  as 
distinct  as  anything  in  my  thought.  After 
months  of  travel  out  of  the  dim  mysteries  of 
childhood,  our  people  went  into  the  Michigan 
woods,  and  set  themselves  down  on  a  beautiful 
knoll  overlooking  lakes  and  meadows,  woods 
and  plains, — a  lovely  spot,  but  with  no  neigh- 
bors for  miles.  A  shanty  roofed  with  hay 
served  for  shelter  while  the  log-cabin  was  being 
built,  and  we  cooked  our  meals  beside  a  great 
white-oak  log  outside.  It  was  autumn,  and 
father  and  the  older  boys  worked  every  day 
in  the  woods  to  get  our  cabin  ready  before 

106 


SERMONS  107 


winter  set  in.  I  was  six,  and  I  had  a  brother, 
Willie,  of  four  years.  We  were  constant  com- 
panions. To  the  rest  we  might  seem  lonely, 
but  for  Willie  and  me  every  bush  had  a  tongue, 
and  the  birds  sang  but  for  us  all  day  long, 
while  the  whippoorwill  kept  singing  into  the 
night.     As  it  was  with  Tom  Hood, 

"Morn  never  came  a  wink  too  soon, 
Nor  brought  too  long  a  day." 

We  were  together,  and  everywhere  together. 
He  was  bright  and  full  of  life,  chasing  butter- 
flies and  hunting  flowers  all  day.  He  was  so 
fond  of  flowers  that  he  would  bring  his  arms 
full  of  goldenrod  every  night  to  mother.  He 
was  quaint  and  witty  and  bright,  and  kept 
us  laughing  all  the  time.  The  autumn  sped 
apace,  and  we  were  compelled  to  go  into  the 
cabin  before  it  was  quite  completed.  It  was 
all  the  great  fireplace  could  do  to  keep  the  air 
warm  which  came  in  at  the  many  openings. 
Willie  and  I  were  now  shut  in  by  the  winter 
storms.  He  was  the  same  as  ever.  However 
dark  the  day,  he  was  a  bit  of  sunshine  within. 
The  weeks  went  by  slowly,  and  March  came. 
It  had  been  a  hard,  long  winter,  and  Willie 
was  growing  less  lively.  One  morning  he  did 
not  get  up  to  breakfast.  I  could  not  under- 
stand why  he  did  not  come,  but  Mother  went 


io8  SERMONS 


often  to  his  bedside.  When  I  went  to  him,  he 
did  not  know  me,  and  when  I  touched  him, 
he  only  said,  "You  mustn't;  hurts."  About 
the  fourth  day  some  neighbors  came  in,  and 
the  minister,  and  they  sang  and  prayed.  Then 
Mother  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  we  walked 
over  to  a  beautiful  spot  across  the  field  and 
put  Willie  in  the  grave.  I  looked  up  at  Mother 
and  saw  tears  trickling  down  her  cheeks.  She 
seldom  cried,  and  I  wondered  what  it  all 
meant.  In  all  the  years  after,  Mother  had  a 
little  flower  garden  where  the  mound  had  been, 
and  I  often  found  her  there  on  Sunday  after- 
noon, sitting  and  reading  her  Bible. 

But  Willie  did  not  walk  with  me  any  more. 
The  other  boys  were  older  than  I,  and  I  was 
left  alone  to  people  the  woods  with  soldiers 
and  knights,  with  forts  and  castles,  with  moats 
and  drawbridges,  and  all  the  wondrous  things 
which  filled  a  boy's  imagination.  I  have 
often  wondered  what  I  lost  from  my  life  by 
Willie  going  from  me  so  early. 

This  is  one  of  the  first  pictures  in  my  mem- 
ory, and  yet  it  is  as  vivid  as  if  it  were  yester- 
day,— that  lovely  autumn  in  the  woods,  that 
dreary  winter  in  the  cabin,  and  that  myste- 
rious, wierd  walk  with  Mother  to  that  point  by 
the  hillside.  It  was  a  shadow  over  my  life, 
"and  my  soul  from  out  that  shadow     .     .     . 


SERMONS  109 


shall  be  lifted  nevermore."  This  is  a  personal 
picture,  but  perhaps  you  have  one  near  enough 
like  it  to  understand  it. 

A  more  public  event  gives  a  more  public 
recognition.  The  first  great  steamboat  dis- 
aster is  as  vividly  in  my  mind  as  if  it  had  been 
a  personal  matter.  I  had  never  seen  a  steam- 
boat, but  heard  one  morning  that  the  Buffalo 
boat  had  been  burned  to  the  water's  edge,  and 
most  of  the  crew  and  passengers  had  perished 
in  the  flames.  Among  the  passengers  were 
many  friends  and  neighbors  from  Ann  Arbor, 
and  gloom  spread  over  the  whole  community. 
Long  as  it  is  ago,  that  hangs  over  that  point 
in  my  memory  as  the  black  smoke  might  hang 
for  hours  over  the  spot  where  a  burning  steamer 
went  down. 

A  national  picture  will  bring  us  more  near 
the  occasion  which  brings  us  here  this  morning. 
The  annexation  of  Texas  was  one  of  the  chief 
issues  in  the  campaigns  of  1840  and  1844. 
In  1844  Polk  was  elected  as  the  friend  of  annex- 
ation. General  Taylor  had  been  in  Western 
Texas  with  a  small  army  of  observation,  as 
they  called  it.  As  soon  as  it  was  decided  to 
hold  the  boundary  of  the  Rio  Grande,  General 
Taylor  crossed  the  river  into  Mexico  and  won 
victories  at  Matamoras  and  Monterey.  Then, 
instead  of  waiting  for  new  volunteer  troops, 


1 10  SERMONS 


he  pushed  on  into  Mexico  with  his  Httle  army 
of  5,000  men.  We  heard  of  him,  but  we  all 
felt  anxious  for  his  fate.  Then  came  the  ugly 
rumors  that  Santa  Anna,  the  Mexican  presi- 
dent and  warrior,  was  coming  upon  him  with 
20,000  men.  We  were  all  in  a  ferment  of  fear 
and  indignation.  We  thought  Taylor  had  been 
betrayed  by  his  political  enemies,  who  were 
jealous  of  the  prestige  he  was  gaining  by  his 
victories.  There  was  great  difference  of  opin- 
ion as  to  the  wisdom  of  the  war,  but  all  parties 
felt  alike  as  to  the  duty  of  sustaining  Taylor. 
The  heart  of  the  whole  country  beat  as  the 
heart  of  one  man  in  patriotic  sympathy  with  the 
brave  men  who  were  imperilled  among  the 
Mexican  mountains.  But  in  a  few  days  the 
news  came  that  Taylor  had  engaged  Santa 
Anna  and  scattered  his  great  army  to  the  four 
winds.  Then  was  our  fear  turned  into  laugh- 
ter, and  we  were  "as  they  that  dream."  And 
this  picture  has  hung  on  the  walls  of  our  mem- 
ory as  clear  and  distinct  as  it  was  when  it  first 
took  its  place.  The  heat  of  our  great  interest 
fastened  the  colors  as  the  heated  oven  fastens 
the  colors  in  the  decorating  of  the  choicest 
china. 

As  we  come  down,  our  pictures  will  interest 
a  wider  circle.  In  the  spring  of  '6i,  we  came 
from  our  home  in  Michigan  to  our  home  in 


SERMONS  III 


Kansas.  We  crossed  Missouri  by  Hannibal 
Railroad  in  April.  The  whole  country  was  in 
a  fever  of  excitement  and  men's  hearts  were 
failing  them  for  fear  of  what  was  coming  upon 
the  earth.  The  next  morning  the  Confedera- 
tion fired  on  Sumter,  and  what  men  feared 
began  to  come.  Missouri  was  in  arms,  her 
river  blockaded,  her  railroads  torn  up,  and 
travel  impossible  anywhere.  The  whole  land 
was  instantly  divided  into  two  hostile  camps, 
and  men  flew  at  each  other  like  the  meeting 
of  opposing  tides  at  sea.  The  farmer  left  his 
plough;  the  herdsman  left  his  flock;  the  lawyer 
left  his  client;  and  the  doctor  left  his  patient; 
and  all  rushed  to  save  the  country.  A  com- 
pany gathered  just  back  of  our  house.  Many 
of  them  were  old  friends,  and  they  were  as  a 
part  of  our  household.  They  came  in  as  they 
would  for  change  or  rest,  and  some  of  them 
often  sat  with  us  at  our  evening  meal.  One 
morning  our  special  friend  came  bounding  in 
and  cried,  "We  are  ordered  off.  Good-bye!" 
And  they  went  as  happy  as  if  to  a  feast.  A 
few  days  after  was  the  deadly  battle  of  Wil- 
son's Creek,  and  some  of  the  boys  who  went  a 
few  days  before  never  came  again.  You  may 
be  sure  that  picture  hangs  in  our  memorial 
gallery. 

Two  years  later,  the  outlook  seemed  very 


112  .  SERMONS 


dark.  The  sides  were  nearly  matched  so  that 
the  issue  seemed  very  doubtful.  But  the 
Fourth  of  July  it  lightened  all  around  the  sky, 
and  there  were  victories  at  Gettysburg,  Vicks- 
burg  and  Port  Huron.  They  were  so  decisive 
that  Lincoln  saw  they  foreshadowed  the  end. 
He  ordered  that  August  6th  should  be  observed 
as  a  day  of  thanksgiving.  I  was  supplying 
our  new  mission  on  Main  Street  for  three  weeks, 
using  the  principal  hall.  The  churches  of 
Kansas  were  indifferent  to  the  President's 
proclamation,  or  worse.  They  all  ignored  the 
day.  I  determined  there  should  be  one  loyal 
service  in  Kansas  City.  It  was  a  curious 
conglomeration.  There  were  our  own  people, 
there  were  soldiers  and  officers  from  the  camps, 
and  there  were  strangers  who  proved  to  be 
members  of  Quantrill's  guerilla  band.  The 
service  seemed  the  proper  thing  for  the  occa- 
sion, and  all  went  away  glad  that  day  had  not 
been  passed  over  in  Kansas  City. 

After  my  time  expired,  we  returned  to  our 
home  in  Lawrence.  We  enjoyed  it  just  one 
day.  At  daybreak,  August  21st,  Quantrill's 
band  pounced  upon  us,  destroyed  the  town, 
murdered  one  hundred  and  fifty  of  our  citi- 
zens, and  left  all  without  homes,  with  the  task 
of  burying  the  dead.     The  funeral  season  was 


SERMONS  113 


protracted  and  various,  but  the  services  were 
many  and  brief. 

"Few  and  short  were  the  prayers  we  said, 
And  we  spake  not  a  word  of  sorrow, 
But  we  steadfastly  gazed  on  the  face  of  the  dead, 
And  bitterly  thought  of  the  morrow." 

You  may  be  sure  we  also  hung  this  picture  in 
its  order  in  our  collection,  and  it  has  lost  noth- 
ing of  its  colors  or  its  distinctness  in  the  pass- 
ing years. 

There  are  many  other  pictures  just  as  dis- 
tinct as  these,  but  to  note  them  all  would  be  to 
obscure  them  all.  One  more  only  of  this 
series  can  be  pointed  out. 

After  two  years  more  of  strenuous  struggle 
came  Lee's  surrender  and  the  return  of  peace. 
All  were  rejoiced.  The  Union  had  been  pre- 
served, the  national  authority  had  been  main- 
tained; slavery  had  been  destroyed,  and  all 
that  we  fought  for  had  been  secured.  Even 
the  South  was  satisfied  that  she  could  go  home 
and  rest.  But  right  in  the  midst  of  our  re- 
joicing came  the  darkest  day  of  all,  the  "winter 
of  our  discontent." 

Lee  had  surrendered;  Lincoln  had  been  to 
Richmond,  and  the  terms  of  peace  had  been 
agreed  upon;  the  armies  were  going,  and  the 
country  was  rejoicing.  Then  five  days  after 
Lee's  surrender,  April  14th,  our  beloved  Presi- 


114  SERMONS 


dent  Lincoln,  who  had  led  us  through  the  War 
and  met  all  the  tremendous  issues  as  they  arose 
in  such  a  wonderful  manner,  was  foully  mur- 
dered. No  one  knew  whence  it  came,  or  what 
it  meant.  It  occurred  Friday  evening,  and 
we  heard  of  it  Saturday  morning.  Arrange- 
ments were  made  at  once  for  memorial  services 
the  next  day  in  the  old  stone  church.  Skilful 
hands  draped  the  church  in  graceful  folds  of 
black;  while  folded  flags  still  more  expressed 
the  common  thought.  The  choir  prepared 
appropriate  music,  and  I  prepared  a  sermon  in 
line  with  the  occasion.  The  fears  of  what  might 
come  soon  subsided,  but  the  sorrow  for  what 
had  come  hung  like  a  dark  cloud  for  many 
days.  The  sentiment  of  that  memorial  serv- 
ice was  fresh  in  our  minds  long  after  the  scenes 
had  passed  by.  We  did  not  forget  to  hang 
this  picture  in  our  memorial  hall,  and  we  just 
touch  upon  it  today  as  we  "remember  all  the 
way."  Peace  remained  and  prosperity  came 
apace,  but  we  did  not  forget  the  days  of  sorrow 
and  of  gloom.  They  hung  over  us  still,  just 
as  the  clouds  do  after  the  storm  has  passed  on. 
May  I  draw  the  slide  once  more,  and  show 
a  scene  far  down  the  line,  as  I  "remember  all 
the  way?"  There  have  been  great  changes, 
great  prosperity  and  great  expansion.  The 
world  does  not  recognize  the  change,  and  we 


SERMONS  115 


do  not  realize  our  strength.  Somehow  we 
have  drifted  into  a  war  for  the  deliverance  of 
Cuba.  Again  there  is  an  eager  rush  to  the 
country's  defense. 

We  draw  the  slide  again  right  here  in  Ply- 
mouth. It  is  early  morning  and  the  church 
is  crowded  with  an  eager  throng.  It  is  all 
flags  and  flowers,  and  music  and  shouts.  A 
company  of  our  own  boys  came  in,  just  as  the 
boys  came  in  forty  years  ago.  They  were 
right  from  our  homes,  our  church,  and  our 
boys'  brigade.  The  officers  of  the  boys'  bri- 
gade are  the  officers.  They  are  from  our  homes, 
and  Sunday  school,  and  friends.  As  they  go 
away  the  multitude  shouts,  and  the  boys 
bravely  respond.     And  we  sing  as  they  go, 

"  Brave  boys  are  they, 
Gone  at  their  country's  call; 

And  yet,  and  yet,  we  cannot  forget 
How  many  brave  boys  must  fall." 

We  soon  began  to  hear  of  their  soldierly  quali- 
ties and  soldierly  conduct  in  far  Manila  Bay. 
Their  bravery  and  bearing  won  for  them  a 
high  place  among  their  new  comrades,  and  the 
Twentieth  Kansas  became  the  pride  of  our 
state,  and  Company  "H"  became  the  pride  of 
Lawrence. 

In  February  the  Philippinos  made  a  vicious 
attack  on  our  lines  at  night.     Our  boys  were 


ii6  SERMONS 


ordered  out  to  the  firing-line.  They  had  never 
been  under  fire  before,  but  they  stood  their 
ground  Hke  veterans.  But  as  they  were  push- 
ing the  enemy  steadily  back,  a  bullet  struck 
our  own  Fred,  and  he  was  the  first  of  our  Kan- 
sas boys  to  fall.  A  few  months  later  we  had 
another  scene  in  Plymouth  Church.  Again  it 
was  adorned  with  flags,  and  again  the  crowd 
packed  the  house.  But  this  time  it  was  the 
emblems  of  mourning,  and  the  service  of  sorrow 
and  consolation.     We  sang  as  they  went  away, 

"  Brave  boys  are  they, 
Gone  at  their  country's  call; 

And  yet,  and  yet,  we  cannot  forget 
How  many  brave  boys  must  fall." 

Then  we  rejoiced  as  they  went  to  their  duty; 
now  we  sorrowed  over  those  who  had  fallen 
in  doing  their  country  the  service  they  owed 
and  pledged  her. 

These  are  but  a  few  of  many  which  I  might 
show  as  I  "remember  all  the  way."  You 
can  bring  out  many  scenes  which  will  be  more 
distinct  then  I  can  make  these.  They  will  be 
personal,  domestic  and  public.  The  loved 
who  blessed  your  home,  the  companion  that 
cheered  your  life,  the  hero  that  stirred  your 
blood.  Out  of  the  past  you  will  bring  them 
today,  as  you  "remember  all  the  way."  As 
you  recall  them,  you  will  crown  them.     This 


SERMONS  117 


day  is  the  crowning  for  the  friends  who  have 
passed  on. 

As  you  recall  the  old  friends,  put  the  chaplet 
on.  Bring  flowers  as  fresh  as  the  love  they 
bespeak.  It  may  be  the  simplest,  and  be  all 
it  need  be.  A  violet  laid  upon  its  mother's 
grave  by  a  loving  child  means  more  than  a 
bunch  of  costly  roses  sent  by  the  hand  of  a 
servant.  Send  the  flowers  you  love,  and  the 
flowers  they  love.  They  shall  stand  for  the 
love  that  still  is  fresh,  and  they  shall  stand  for 
the  faith  that  never  fails. 

This  is  Memorial  Day.  There  has  been 
enough  in  any  of  our  lives  to  show  the  signifi- 
cance of  such  a  day.  All  that  has  impressed 
us  as  we  came  along  has  left  its  impress  here. 
As  we  "remember  all  the  way,"  they  will  pass 
before  us.  The  old  scenes  and  the  old  faces 
will  come  to  us  once  more.  What  impressed 
you  as  you  passed  it  will  come  distinctly  before 
you  as  you  review  it.  The  vivid  scenes  of  your 
life  will  be  the  vivid  pictures  of  your  Memo- 
rial Gallery.  You  will  not  forget  what  so 
distinctly  left  its  mark.  The  old  soldier  will 
not  forget  the  war  of  the  Rebellion.  He 
will  not  forget  the  day  of  his  enlistment,  and 
he  will  not  forget  the  first  smoke  of  battle.  He 
will  not  forget  the  night  march  in  the  storm, 
nor  the  camp  in  the  snow.     He  will  not  forget 


Ii8  SERMONS 


his  mess-mates,  nor  the  men  who  marched  with 
him,  nor  the  comrade  who  fell  by  his  side  in  the 
fight.  If  he  should  live  a  thousand  years,  the 
four  in  the  army  would  furnish  more  material 
for  thought  than  all  the  rest. 

Bring  flowers  and  crown  the  heroes  you  have 
left  behind.  Let  it  be  flowers  and  flags — 
flags  to  mark  the  spot,  and  flowers  to  crown 
the  heroes.  Bring  the  flowers  you  love,  and 
the  flowers  they  loved.  Bring  roses  with  their 
affection.  Bring  the  carnation  with  its  blush. 
Bring  the  simplest  as  well  as  the  rare. 

Bring  your  flowers  and  crown  the  friends 
whose  faces  come.  Live  over  again  the  scenes 
which  once  stirred  you.  Revive  the  old  friend- 
ships as  you  "remember  all  the  way." 


NUGGETS 

It  is  not  how  far  we  have  walked  but  which  way  we  are 
walking. 

God  measures  not  by  the  size  of  the  gift  but  by  the  strength 
of  the  giver;  not  by  what  the  gift  is  worth,  but  by  what  it 
costs  him  that  brings  it;  not  by  the  weight  of  the  load,  but  by 
the  strength  of  him  who  carries  it. 

A  man  will  do  according  to  what  he  is. 

A  man  may  fail  of  fortune  but  need  not  fail  himself. 

A  man  is  a  fool  not  to  be  what  he  can  be  because  he  can't 
be  what  he  would  be. 

A  man  grows  towards  what  he  thinks  upon  and  loves.  He 
that  looks  up  has  begun  to  rise.  He  that  looks  to  God  has 
begun  the  journey  toward  God. 

Every  advance  opens  the  way  for  advance;  if  a  man  be  satis- 
fied with  the  past  he  will  have  no  future. 

The  true  disciple  never  feels  that  he  has  attained.  The 
points  gained  are  but  steps  towards  the  point  sought.  The 
road  traveled  is  only  on  the  way  to  the  destination. 

The  needs  of  today  are  not  satisfied  with  the  supplies  of 
yesterday,  and  the  duties  of  today  are  not  done  by  the  fidelity 
of  yesterday. 

The  Kingdom  of  God  is  the  reign  of  God  in  the  hearts  of 
men.  It  is  Christ  formed  within,  molding  the  spirit  and  the 
conduct  to  himself.  It  is  a  living  thing  in  a  living  heart 
repeating  itself  in  other  hearts.  It  is  life  touching  life.  It 
is  life  transforming  life.  Thus  the  Kingdom  grows  and  thus 
the  truth  extends. 

Men  influence  each  other  according  to  what  they  are,  and 
not  according  to  what  they  seem  to  be,  or  say  they  are.  It  is 
the  Christ  in  men's  lives  which  wins  men  to  Christ. 

You  need  all  the  sails  you  have,  and  you  may  fling  them  all 
to  the  breeze.     But  unless  you  have  a  rudder,  the  more  sails, 

119 


120  NUGGETS 


the  more  peril.  Fill  your  life  as  full  of  joy  as  you  can,  but 
bring  it  all  under  the  pressure  of  divine  obligation. 

The  teacher  may  excuse  from  the  lesson,  but  that  is  a  dif- 
ferent thing  from  learning  the  lesson.  God  may  spare  you 
the  cross  but  that  will  not  win  you  the  crown.  You  may 
keep  the  metal  from  the  fire,  but  that  will  not  refine  it. 

The  men  who  have  given  the  world  its  best  things  have  never 
stopped  to  ask  what  the  price  might  be. 

Responsibility  is  not  a  burden  but  a  privilege.  A  grand 
service  is  not  a  hardship  but  a  favor. 

Faith  in  Christ  is  self-convincing.     It  is  its  own  best  proof. 

Some  travellers  were  encamped  on  the  shore  of  a  beautiful 
lake  whose  waters  at  times  were  disturbed  as  if  moved  by 
an  unseen  force.  Exploration  revealed  the  fact  that  the  lake 
was  connected  with  the  great  ocean  and  so  felt  the  heave  and 
swell  of  its  mighty  bosom.  Even  so  it  is  our  privilege  to  be 
in  touch  with  the  great  heart  of  God  and  respond  in  some 
measure  to  impulses  which  have  their  source  in  him. 

A  wasted  summer  is  a  pauper's  winter,  a  neglected  school  is 
a  dunce's  life.  An  unimproved  life  opens  to  an  empty 
eternity. 

A  man's  wants  are  within  him.  They  are  not  in  the  things 
that  satisfy  him.  A  man's  wants  are  the  measure  of  himself. 
The  more  he  wants  the  more  there  is  of  him.  A  new  want 
means  a  new  capacity.     He  grows  larger  as  his  wants  increase. 

Cultivate  the  field  you  are  in,  and  you  will  find  enough  to 
do.  You  need  not  go  to  the  slums  to  found  a  social  settle- 
ment. Make  a  social  settlement  of  the  community  in  which 
you  live.  If  you  would  serve  the  Master,  get  near  to  some- 
body. Go  near  enough  to  the  life  to  know  what  is  needed 
and  how  you  can  be  of  the  most  service. 

The  best  part  of  many  things  is  the  desire  for  them.  That  a 
man  should  desire  them  is  an  enrichment.  You  can  have  all 
the  best  things.  The  wish  for  them  opens  the  door  for  them. 
If  you  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness  you  will  be 
filled. 

To  them  who  hunger  for  righteousness  it  comes  as  the  air 
comes  in  the  evening,  as  the  waters  find  their  way  to  the  sea. 


NUGGETS  121 


The  breath  of  God  is  Hke  the  breath  of  life.  We  need  but 
breathe  to  be  filled. 

God  never  treats  a  prayer  with  indifference. 

That  is  always  most  manly  which  is  most  natural:  that  is 
always  most  brave  which  is  most  true.  It  is  not  manly  to  be 
insensible,  it  is  not  manly  to  be  indifferent. 

Knowledge  is  a  measure  of  being.  A  man  grows  as  he  learns 
and  learns  as  he  grows. 

Any  man's  service  will  be  acceptable  who  stays  where  Christ 
found  him  and  does  what  Christ  bids  him.  So  long  as  he  is 
doing  what  Christ  left  for  him  to  do,  he  need  not  sigh  for  higher 
work  nor  for  a  better  place.  The  work  at  hand  is  always  the 
work  to  be  done  and  the  work  to  be  done  will  always  be  recog- 
nized and  rewarded. 

You  can  judge  a  man  by  what  he  likes  best.  His  taste  will 
define  him.  If  his  tastes  are  low,  he  will  easily  drop  to  their 
level. 

When  a  man  takes  religion  into  his  home,  it  is  not  something 
he  can  put  away  on  the  shelf,  like  a  new  piece  of  statuary, 
or  in  the  front  parlor,  like  a  new  piano.  But  it  is  like  letting 
light  into  his  home  or  fresh  air  into  his  room. 

God  may  give  a  man  the  opportunity  of  great  things,  but 
only  that  is  his  which  he  takes  into  his  own  life.  God  may 
give  a  man  the  means  of  Grace,  but  only  those  graces  ornament 
his  spirit  which  are  taken  into  the  fiber  of  his  soul. 

It  is  not  what  a  man  has  but  what  he  will  do  with  it,  which 
determines  his  value  as  a  member  of  society. 

Persons  on  opposite  sides  of  the  street  may  walk  as  they 
please,  but  it  is  always  wise  to  keep  step  with  the  companion 
at  your  elbow.  A  close  touch  demands  the  unselfish  spirit 
which  religion  implants. 

The  hero  who  meets  his  Gethsemane  before  the  conflict 
never  faints  when  the  conflict  is  on. 

The  primary  purpose  of  prayer  is  to  mold  events.  The 
secondary  purpose  is  to  mold  us.  If  events  cannot  be  recon- 
ciled to  our  plans,  the  same  result  may  be  attained  if  our  plans 
can  be  reconciled  to  events. 

There  are  two  ways  to  lighten  a  burden,  one  is  to  take  it 


122  NUGGETS 

from  our  shoulders,  the  other  is  to  strengthen  our  shoulders 
to  bear  It. 

A  life  that  can  bear  its  burden  is  richer  than  a  life  which 
has  no  burden. 

Strength  to  do  is  better  than  release  from  service.  Courage 
to  dare  is  better  than  to  escape  the  conflict. 

There  are  Gethsemanes  in  all  our  lives.  We  all  pass  through 
the  garden  in  the  midst  of  the  night.  In  most  lives  the  Geth- 
semane  is  harder  than  the  cross.  The  mental  anguish  exceeds 
the  physical  pain. 

Because  the  thing  we  ask  for  is  not  given  is  no  sign  that  our 
prayer  is  not  heard.     God  has  some  better  thing  for  us. 


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